


The Infinite

by casstayinmyass



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers: Infinity War (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety Disorder, Bisexual Stephen Strange, Bisexual Tony Stark, Bottom Tony Stark, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Has a Family, Psychic Stephen, Rating will change, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Spider Son and Iron Dad, Strangefamily, Supernatural Elements, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Angst, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, dad tony stark, haunted house au, pop culture references, top Stephen Strange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-05-08 03:18:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: After his wife’s untimely death, Tony Stark packs up and moves himself and his adoptive teenage son Peter to the suburbs. When eerie happenings around the new house lead Tony to believe his wife is trying to contact them from the dead, he finds himself seeking the help of a psychic– one Stephen Strange. Strange agrees to help, but things don't go as planned, and Tony and Peter may be requiring Stephen's services for longer than expected.





	1. Chapter 1

  

\-----

"Pep... the movie's over." Tony reached over and roused his wife, who blinked her eyes open.

"Hm?"

"You didn't even see the ending."

"Of course I..." she yawned, "Tony, of course I saw the ending, it's the one where he... y'know--"

"What?"

"The one where he crashes through the door and says that line, you know what I'm talking about..."

"Seriously? You conked out after 'Here's Johnny?'"

 "It was a loooong day, Tony, not a good mix for a looong movie."

"Not a long movie."

"Two hours and twenty six minutes."

"Well--"

"Mmmmshhh," Pepper hushed him by pressing soft lips to his. "Peter's asleep."

"So were you, apparently."

"I enjoyed the movie," Pepper whispered with a lazy smile, "I could kind of hear the ending in my dream."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... hmmm, hm, hmmm, hmm," Pepper began to hum the waltz from the ballroom at the end of the movie, and stood Tony up, pulling him in and starting to dance with him. Tony laughed, and buried his head in her shoulder as they waltzed in the living room to Pepper's gentle humming.

_"Dad."_

_"Dad!"_

* * *

 

"Dad... the movie's over."

Tony's eyes opened to Peter sitting opposite him on the couch. "Weren't you...?" he began to ask, then rubbed his eyes. "Oh."

"You didn't fall asleep for the ending, did you?" Peter asked excitedly, "I know how much you love the ending, where you see the picture of him in the ballroom, and--"

"And he's become a part of the hotel, yeah," Tony managed a tired smile. "Yeah, I know. Sorry."

"Hey no big, it's okay," Peter reassured, "I'm a little, uh," he faked a yawn to make his dad feel better, "A little tired too! Woah, look at the time. You should head to bed."

Tony frowned. "You inviting someone over or something, wanna get me out of the way?"

"I'd tell you if I was, honest," Peter said earnestly, and Tony couldn't _not_ believe those eyes. Peter was everything Tony wasn't as a teenager. He was kind, humble, a terrible liar, and likely the only teenager out there who would ask his dad's permission before going out on a date. Tony used to sneak out for dates with girls, guys, anyone who would sleep with him at the time, and would usually be found in a crashed mustang smelling like a liquor store by his angry father.

At least it gave Tony peace of mind that Peter hadn't turned out like him.

"Okay, alright. I'm goin' to bed," Tony sighed, wiping his eyes and patting Peter's shoulder for him to get up for a good night hug, "Sweet dreams, kid. I love you."

"Love you too," the sixteen year old grinned, hugging him tightly, and as Tony climbed the stairs of their new suburban house, he heard Peter hum the ballroom waltz. Forcing himself to smile, he ignored the tears gathering in his eyes, and kept on to bed.

Unable to fall asleep, Tony Stark stared at the ceiling until 1:30 in the morning, when he finally heard Peter shut off the TV and come upstairs. He must really have been tired, as he heard the TV flicker back on for a few seconds before flickering back off.

Rolling over, he stared at the blinking numbers on his alarm clock, and out the window. It was so quiet out here, in the suburbs. He had spent his whole life in the city, from when he was a kid all the way up until he had a kid of his own. He had tried his hand at a couple of relationships, first with a woman named Natasha Romanoff. She was beautiful, flirtatious, Russian, but something in their personalities just didn't mesh that way.

Then there was that guy Steve Rogers, who Tony had been friends with prior to dating him. They dated for close to a year after that, and hit it off. Steve was strong, polite, and everything Tony needed at the time, but there hadn't been any trust-- Steve became convinced Tony was cheating because of his mannerisms, and when Tony had tried to explain that his anxiety was being a bitch, Steve hadn't bothered to hear him out.

After all that, he met Pepper Potts eighteen years ago-- a kind woman with the same snark he had, but just enough of a sensibility to keep him in line. He had almost immediately proposed to her. They had taken Peter in 16 years ago, when Peter's aunt had been forced to put him up for adoption for financial reasons. They had been such a happy family.

About a year ago, Pepper had gotten sick. She had been diagnosed with pneumonia that eventually spread through her body, weakening her. Pneumonia wasn't always fatal, and they tried to beat it, but Pepper's immune system just couldn't handle it, as the most expensive practitioner had told him. Tony had gotten angry at the guy, saying there was more they could do for her, but the news had been firm. They knew they didn't have long with her after that diagnosis, and spent all the time they could with her. Peter loved her so much, and Tony... Tony had just barely begun to get over it.

They had moved from the heart of the city after she passed, since everything in the old high-rise he owned reminded Tony of her. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, relocating to the suburbs. But Tony didn't have the same charming socialite reputation here as he did in the city, and they knew _nobody_ around the neighbourhood. Peter, at least, was making some friends at the local high school. It was a catholic school, as that was the only convenient institution near where they lived.  

Tony found himself going nuts most nights from all the silence. He had tried binaural beats for deep sleep for a while, but they just gave him headaches. Sounds distracted him from thinking too much, since when he started to think, his thoughts spiralled out of control to all sorts of worries about Pepper, about the new place, about fitting in, that he really didn't need to freak out about. He wished a horn would honk, or a car alarm would sound or something. He stared at the moon through the blinds. A cricket chirped.

"Hey dad!"

Tony checked the time. "What?"

"I thought you went to bed!"

Tony yawned. "Pete, I'm in bed."

There was a long beat of silence, and just as Tony was rolling back over to sleep, he heard Peter again.

"Why's the TV on?"

One eye opened, and Tony swung his foot over the side of the bed. Damn finickity thing. He was the billionaire president of the world's most successful tech company, and he couldn't even get his TV working.

"On it," he mumbled in his half-awake state. Holding onto the railing so he didn't fall down the stairs, Tony made his way to the expansive living room, and padded over to the television. It was indeed on, and Tony took out his phone, hitting a button and shutting the TV off with it. "Alright, it's officially sleeping pills time," he mumbled, feeling his way to the kitchen for some tonic water and medication. Halfway to dumping the pills out, the TV turned on again.

_"Midnight... with the stars and you..."_

Tony hesitated, looking up to find Jack Nicholson's smiling face in a sepia portrait.

_"Midnight... and a rendez-vous..."_

Walking over, he warily unplugged the TV-- it stayed off for good this time. Shaking his head, he took two pills, and trudged up to bed again, unable to get that stupid song out of his head. As he walked down the hallway, he stopped by Peter's room to let him know the TV was being wonky, but found that he was fast asleep snoring, strewn sideways across his bed with his face pressed into his pillow.

"Night, Pete," he whispered with a smile, and made it to his own bed, collapsing.

_Please don't have another dream about her. Enough now. Let it go._

* * *

Tony dropped Peter off at school the next day, and headed to the grocery store. The people here were nice enough-- there was a woman over there with black and pink hair, beside a buff looking guy with sandy blonde hair. They might know where stuff was.

"Hey," he cut into their conversation, "Sorry, do you guys happen to know where the dairy-free yogurt is?"

"Who eats dairy-free yogurt, man?" the guy made a face, and when he got a good look at Tony, he immediately stood between him and his girlfriend.

"It's over there--" the woman tried to say, but got muffled by the guy standing in front of her. "Oh, stop being so insecure Peter," she whacked him in the arm with a scowl, and Peter made a face.

"Ow, I am not... 'Mora, I am not insecure, he's just... he was looking at you--"

"He was _not_ looking at me."

Tony stifled a laugh as he walked away from the two, Peter's arm shielding Gamora from him... as if he needed to. Tony wasn't interested in a rebound right now. He stepped up to the cash, and heard a voice behind him.

"Tony?"

He turned, and his eyes widened. "Nat!" He genuinely smiled. "Look at you, look at your hair, you're blonde now! Where's Clint?"

"Grabbing some cornflakes, how are you?" she asked, rubbing a hand up and down his arm, "I didn't know you lived around here now."

"Moved," Tony smiled.

"Well Clint lives around this neighbourhood," she mentioned, and a flicker of hope lit inside Tony. At least he had one person he knew around--

"Or he did, before he sold it. We're moving to Wyoming." 

"Wyoming?" Tony asked, "Wow. That's... really far away."

"I know. I thought I loved the city, but... hey, I wanna settle down, and a farm out there might be nice, y'know?" She grinned, and Tony nodded. "'Course, you can take the girl out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the girl." She smirked, and tilted her head. "Stupid saying, I know, but Clint keeps saying it." She chuckled, then thought of something. "Tony! I meant to ask, how's Pep doing?"

Tony cleared his throat. "She, uh--" He shook his head.

"Oh," Natasha took his hand, grimacing. "Oh Tony, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he said, "It's been a year. Pete's okay, so I gotta stay strong for him, right?"

Nat gave him a sympathetic smile, and wrapped her arms around him, hugging. Peter and Gamora walked by, Peter's mouth dropping open.

"See, I told you he was out for some poon! If I wasn't careful, that might've been you--"

"Shut _up_ Quill!"

Tony gave them a funny look, and turned back to Natasha. "You guys wanna come over for drinks or something? Little goodbye party?"

"Thanks, but we're leaving at the end of the week," Nat said, "We just don't have the time. You've got our numbers though-- keep in touch!"

"You know it."

Natasha winked, and went off to find her boyfriend.

Tony returned home, and worked on preparing dinner until Peter came home. They talked about his day, until he headed upstairs to get a little homework done. Tony got some work done on his laptop, tinkering around with a couple of new designs for the company. Soon, it was nightfall, and after dinner, Peter was helping Tony with dishes.

"You still getting those dreams?" Peter asked. There was no hiding anything from this kid, but there _was_ evading him.

Tony pretended to think. "You mean the ones in the dive bar, where the hot bartender asks me if I want to get out of there, and we--"

"Dad, no!" Peter made a face, "The ones... y'know, the ones about--"

"Mom. Yeah," Tony gave in. "They're not happening as much as before. But they're there. You know, you're ridiculously observant."

"I get it from you."

"Debateable, it took me three weeks to realize you got that tattoo."

"Michelle drew it, I thought it would make me look cool!"

"It makes you look very cool Peter, no one would dare mess with you now that you have a half-inch long spider on your big toe."

"But dad... I think mom misses us just as much as you miss her," Peter said, and Tony was about to just pass it off as Peter trying to make him feel better again, but he paused.

"What makes you say that?"

"You haven't heard the noises?" Peter stopped scrubbing a pot. "The TV? The knocking in the middle of the night?" Tony was giving him a blank stare, so he elaborated excitedly. "Look, you know that really old movie--"

"Nothing good ever comes from your references."

"--The Haunting, where her family talks to her in the walls and stuff?"

Tony blinked. "Go on."

"Yeah well... I think mom's doing that!"

Tony put his sponge down, and dried off his hands. "You think your mother is talking to you from the walls."

"It sounds crazy, dad, I know it does. But sometimes when I can't sleep, I ask her questions," Peter smiled a little, wistfully. "She answers."

"Like, talks to you?" Tony asked, breath hitching. Something in Peter's eyes told him he wasn't lying, or joking. Of course, he had to be...

"Not in her voice. Through knocks."

Tony spent a long time looking at the teenager, before clearing his throat. "You got any more homework to do, kid?"

"Dad--"

"Seriously, I don't want you doing that anymore, it's weird."

"But dad!"

"Peter," Tony said firmly, and put his hands on his son's shoulders. "I know you miss her."

"I--"

"Hey, I miss her too, obviously. But I know better than anyone that it's time to move on, or we'll never be able to let her go. We _have_ to let her go, Pete." Peter sniffled a little, and wrapped his arms around Tony's middle. Tony rubbed his back, and rested his chin on Peter's head as he sniffled and cried. "I know." They stayed like that for a good three minutes, until Tony sighed, patting his back. "Do your calculus."

"Finished it and next week's," Peter mumbled dejectedly into Tony's shirt.

"Then go text Liz, I know you want to."

Tony smirked, and watched Peter wipe his eyes, give a small wave, and make his way up the stairs to text his crush. He finished the rest of the dishes by himself, and finally turned off the kitchen light before heading up to bed. As he was climbing the stairs in a sort of monotonous routine, something at the back of Tony's mind stopped him.

_No. He couldn't be thinking of actually..._

"This is crazy," he muttered to himself, "It's crazy!" He had a mental battle with himself before backtracking down the stairs cautiously, listening to hear if Peter was distracted. He did not want to indulge this in front of him... but he sounded sufficiently preoccupied with Netflix up there. Finally, Tony considered that he had done a lot of crazy things in his life, so this wouldn't be the first. Walking back out to the living room, Tony sat, cross-legged, on the hardwood. "Can't believe I'm doing this... uh, hey!" he spoke out loud, "...Hey," his words caught in his throat for a second, before he forced them out. "Pep?"

He waited, and decided to go all out with this. He took out his lighter, lit a few candles that were on the table, and cleared his throat. "Pepper. I don't know if... Peter's _really_ been talking to you. Maybe he's just dreaming you up. He doesn't seem to be taking it _that_ hard, but what do I know? Look... I just wanna know if... you're good. Are you okay? If you can hear me... I miss you, and..." _Well, he'd come this far. Might as well get it out_. "I get scared without you. Scared I won't be able to bring Peter up without another parental figure. Anyway--" he wiped at his eyes, shaking his head. "Whatever, I know you're gone, I've accepted it, I have. All I wanna know is that you're okay out there, honey."

He waited, then remembered what Peter had told him. Knocks.

"Hey, Pep. Okay. Knock twice if you can hear me." He waited for a second, and tried again. "Knock twice if you're here."

He waited, and waited. Silence. _One more try._ "If there's anyone here," he said slowly, looking around the large home, "Knock twice."

All at once, there was the sound of two hard knocks on the wall behind him-- his candle went out, the curtains fluttered, and the TV suddenly blared on at full volume. Tony covered his ears, running over, and tried to light the candle again, shivers running through him.

"Dad?" Tony turned to see a very confused Peter leaning against the banister, his hair a little mussed from laying down. "What the crap's going on?"

"S-swear jar..."

Peter dug around for a dime, and tossed it in. "What the heck's going on?!"

Tony took a deep breath, hands shaking as he returned the lighter to his pockets. "Oh my god. Shit."

"What?" Peter frowned, glancing at the swear jar.

" _Oh my god_ \--"

"What, what is it, y-you're freaking me out!"

"Peter..." Tony looked up, eyes wide, "I think your mom really is trying to talk to us." 


	2. Chapter 2

"How about this: a psychic." They sat around the kitchen table with hot chocolate. Tony leaned back in his chair.

"That's your plan? Invite some batty mind reader into our house to interpret what mom's trying to say to us?"

"...Yes?"

"Not a great plan."

"Wait," Peter sighed, getting up to refill his mug, "Hear me out, I've read all about it. They're super smart, like they know stuff in your head, and can talk to dead people."

"Did you get all this from watching Ghost?" Tony asked, and Peter spent a long time staring at his dad.

"No." 

"Right, listen Peter, I don't know if this is such a good idea. I mean, we know it's mom, right? Good. Fine. We don't need a psychic to come in here and tell us what she's saying. We can communicate through knocking."

"Come on, don't you wanna know what she's _actually_ trying to tell us? I mean, why else would she be hanging around if she didn't have anything important to say to us?"

Tony hummed. "You make a fair point. Also, why would she follow us from the tower all the way out here?"

"Exactly! Questions that can easily be answered by what? A psychic."

Tony sighed, rubbing his temples, and finally gave in. He had the money to spare, and if it made Peter happy, they could try it at least. Tony pulled out his phone, and did a search of psychics in the area.

"Wong," Tony read, frowning, "This guy's name is just 'Wong'. He could've spiced it up a little, like Wong the Seer, Wong the Allpowerful, like-- oh, look, like her, the Ancient One, wow."

"She looks promising," Peter shrugged, looking over his shoulder.

"Too flashy, I can sense a scammer."

"There... that one underneath." Tony scrolled down, and came to "Stephen Strange, master of the psychic arts." Tony was going to keep scrolling, but something told him to wait on this one. "He looks badass."

"He looks..." Tony tried to think of something to say, but just ended up at a loss for words. On a hunch, he saved the address of his shop. "Okay Pete, tomorrow night, I'll--"

"We'll?"

" _I'll_ head over to meet with this guy, and if all goes well, I'll bring him back here. I don't want any pop culture references out of you while he's here," Tony held up a finger, "You're gonna offend him if you say some dumb shit like _'this house is clean_.'"

"Whatever you say," Peter giggled, "Oh, dad? Swear jar."

Tony grumbled as he plunked a dime in.

* * *

The front of the shop was adorned with mystic paraphernalia, strings and tiny lights twisting along the awning with small crystals hanging from them that tinkled in the light breeze. In the window, a neon sign blinked that read, "PSYCHIC" in an almost fantasy-like design with a big green eye underneath, irritating Tony's eyes ever so slightly. When he walked in, he felt as if he had just entered a yoga studio-- everything inside screamed latte mom heaven, with too many gems to count. He glanced around, and finally found the man he was looking for across the little store- the psychic.

He had a red robe thing hanging from his shoulders, his jet black hair interrupted by a shock of silver on either side. He had his back to Tony, allowing the single father to survey him quickly. He was a tall man, with limbs that almost resembled a ballet dancer-- slender, but muscular. He was softly murmuring to himself as Tony closed the door quietly, not wishing to startle the man.

"Good afternoon." Tony jumped, clutching his chest. Of course the man knew he was there. "Welcome to my nook," he went on, finally turning around, "I call it the sanctum, for obvious... mystical reasons."  

Tony's breath was taken-- he was immediately enthralled by the deep voice that seemed as if it didn't belong to a man so beautiful. The psychic had high cheekbones, eyes as blue and piercing as ice, and inquisitive brows that accentuated them. A styled goatee that resembled Tony's own wrapped around his lips, and the gaze he gave Tony immediately made him feel inferior. The single dad began to feel particularly grungy in this man's presence, trying futily to scratch the dirt from beneath his fingernails as if it would make a difference.

"I think it's, uh, nighttime, actually," Tony replied, clearing his throat and furrowing his own brow hard. This was met with a sarcastic smile.

"Kind of you to remind me. I'm Dr. Stephen Strange."

"Doctor?"

"Starting out, I couldn't make a living off just my metaphysical abilities, so I used to be a surgeon."

Tony bristled, his experience with doctors sore in his mind. "But lemme guess, you quit when you started predicting your patients were gonna die before they did?" Tony asked with a bite he hadn't intended, and Stephen clenched his jaw a little.

"I quit when I got in a car accident that damaged the nerves in my hands, douchebag. What did you say your name was?"

Feeling guilty for his comments, Tony did what he did best-- further antagonized the situation.

"Shouldn't you know that already, if you are what you say you are?" Tony narrowed his eyes, then tried to remind himself of why he was there. _Peter, do it for Peter._ The man didn't seem to be offended anymore, though. He simply offered a somewhat amused smile, so Tony huffed, looking to prove the guy's talent.  "Name's Tom. Thomas Stark."

"Pleasure to meet you, Tony," the man smirked, shaking his hand with a somewhat light grasp, obviously due to his aforementioned affliction. "You've got an interesting name."

"Your name is a little Strange too," Tony retorted, keeping the handshake going as if to feel around for scars. Stephen noticed this, and pulled away.

"Well, the name sure helps me live up to your expectations. Am I batty enough for you Mr. Stark?" Stephen smirked, and Tony swallowed.

"I..."

"Anyway, I didn't mean your name was interesting as in extraordinary, Stark. There's nothing special about your name, don't worry."

"Oh good, takes a load off."

"--I mean the emotional weight that hangs around it..." he seemed to glance over Tony in curiosity. "That's what's interesting." Tony marvelled at what this could mean, and found his head was beginning to hurt.

"Look, let's cut to the chase, okay buddy?"

"Be my guest."

"Will you help me?"

"That's what I do, Mr. Stark," Strange walked a little closer, eyes meeting Tony's with that aggravatingly smug smile dancing on his lips, "Isn't it?"

* * *

They arrived back to the house together, as "Dr." Strange didn't mind doing house calls, apparently. The car ride back was, for the most part, quiet, as Tony stole glances the man's way. His features just begged to be admired, and Tony was never one to pass up a chance to admire an attractive guy.

Tony was currently driving down the main road back to the house, looking at Stephen's profile as he faced the other way, looking out his own window.

"Watch out for the old lady," Stephen said, not turning around, and Tony whipped his head back, slamming on the breaks at a crosswalk.

"Fuck."

Stephen smiled to himself, having sensed Tony's attraction ever since the shop. He found the single father handsome too, if not a little arrogant, with his ruffled brown hair and amber eyes. Those eyes held a depth to them that he hadn't seen in anyone else over the course of his careers, both medical and psychic. He could feel it inside of himself, something pulling to understand Tony. There were things in him that were guarded, things Stephen couldn't see or sense. It was intriguing. 

Of course, that was not what he was here for, and he intended to keep this purely professional, especially with a guy like this, plus a kid.

"Home sweet home," Tony announced, parking the car in front of the house, and they walked in. "Now, where do I start?"

"You have to invite me in."

"I... am?" Tony frowned, holding the door open.

"No," Stephen explained, sighing, "You have to actually invite me in for my energy to be welcome to experience your household."

"Okay," Tony muttered, clearing his throat. "I, Tony Stark, the lord of this household, do hereby declare you invited into my humble abode."

Stephen gave him a sardonic smile as he entered past the billionaire, and stepped in. Looking around, he took in his surroundings. Modern furniture, hardwood floors, comfy looking couch with all kinds of high tech equipment around.

"And... you said you had a son?" Stephen mentioned, and suddenly, there was thumping on the stairs.

"Hey, hi! I'm Peter, you must be the psychic!" Peter came rushing over, and began to shake Stephen's hand excitedly.

"Yes," Stephen replied, "Stephen Strange, nice to meet you."

"Ooh nice! Is that your made up psychic name?! I've decided that if I was ever to become psychic, I would call myself Peter the Great, and--"

"That's enough," Tony smiled, and ushered his son away from the frowning Strange.

"Tony... can you tell me exactly what's been going on in your house?"

"Yeah, so some background," Tony took a deep breath. "My wife of eighteen years and Peter's mom, she uh... she died, about a year ago."

Stephen had suspected this, but he had wanted to hear Tony's explanation. "My condolences, for the both of you." Peter gave a thankful smile his way, and Tony nodded.

"We grieved for a while, of course, but it seemed like we were finally getting back into the normal swing of things, when..."

"When you began to hear noises."

"Real crazy stuff," Peter spoke up, "We're talking knocks, TV turning on and off, all that stuff like in the movie Insidious!"

"But you haven't started astroprojecting like the kid in Insidious, have you Peter?" Strange volleyed back with a smirk, and Peter and Tony both looked shocked that the psychic caught his reference. "What? I'm not from the stone ages." He moved to the living room, and closed his eyes. "This is where the most activity takes place, am I correct?" He looked between the two, and they nodded. "Do you have a basement underneath this room?"

"Uh, yeah," Tony said, "I've only been down there once, to drop off some boxes we didn't need. We've since left it alone, it's pretty dingy."

"Surprising, considering you've renovated everything else in the house to your tastes," Stephen noted, looking up at the ceiling. Tony shrugged.

"Yeah. I just..."

"Yes?" Stephen pressed on, and Tony shifted.

"I didn't like how it felt down there, okay? It just felt weird."

Stephen nodded hesitantly, then closed his eyes. "Okay... I'm going to have to ask you to sit down, and relax. Please don't interfere." Tony and Peter both took a seat, and Tony chose the chair behind Strange. Strange held up his hands, and huffed. "Enjoying the view, Mr. Stark?" Tony went red, and Strange concentrated. "What was your wife's name?"

"Pepper. Maiden name Potts."

Stephen concentrated on the feelings all around him, on each and every emotion he could detect. After a few seconds, he tapped into the energy, feeling his own begin to mingle with that of the house's.

_Pepper. If you can feel me. Manifest. Connect. I mean you no harm._

_Pepper. If you can feel me here. Manifest yourself._

_Pepper Potts. I am here. Your family is here. Why have you come here?_

_Pepper Potts. I am listening_.

He stood there, arms up, for about five minutes.

"This is so cool," Peter whispered to Tony, and Tony nudged him to be quiet.

Stephen stood, and reached himself out to the being manifesting. He began to feel something... a presence, reaching out to him in return.

_Yes. Pepper, why are you here?_

Suddenly, Stephen felt a pang, a wave of nausea spreading through him. He then felt immense anger, fury, darkness course through him, ripping at his energy from all sides.

_Kill._

_Kill._

_Destroy._

_Kill._

"Strange?" Tony stood, walking over quickly. The psychic was shaking, head twitching to weird angles and fingers curling in. "Hey!"

Stephen suddenly woke from his trance with a start, grabbing Tony's arms. Tony looked into his anxious blue eyes, and took Stephen's arms as well.

"Hey... it's okay, you're alright, you're back. Tell me what happened." Stephen blinked twice, containing his heaving breath, then cleared his throat calmly.

"Tony, can I speak to you alone for a second?"

Tony nodded, and they walked over to the corner of the room, where Stephen lowered his voice.

"Whatever is in this house, Tony... it's _not_ your wife."

Tony swallowed, paling. "What? But I talked to her the other--"

"The other night, yeah, it wasn't her. The knocking, the interference, whatever this is, it can trick you easily. It's been tricking Peter for weeks, and you both responding to it, reaching out to it..." Stephen sighed. "You've invited it in."

"W-what... _who_ is it?" Tony asked cautiously, fear striking for him and for Peter.

Strange's lips settled in a firm line as he still felt the remnants of the fury inside him as he looked from Tony to Peter back on the couch. "Nobody good." 


	3. Chapter 3

Tony paced in front of the fireplace, biting his thumbnail. Peter had since been sent up to bed, and when Tony had caught him listening at the staircase, all he had to do was give him a look for Peter to know not to try that again. Silence filled the house as both men tried to process what just happened.

"How could you tell?"

Stephen looked down, sighing. "I can still feel the fury. I could hear the words _kill_ , _destroy_ , in my ears as if someone was whispering them to me."

"And who's this someone?"

"I don't know exactly. Now I have dealt with demons before--"

"Demons?! Woah woah woah Doctor Death, take it easy, you're saying we got _demons_?!"

Strange stared at him with distaste at the nickname, and shook his head. "Not demons, _demon_. At least from what I could tell."

"Yeah? You dealt with a lot of those?"

"As a matter of fact I have, Mr. Stark."

"Pointy horns? Fire breathing?"

"Do you want me to leave? Because if I'm stretching your suspension of disbelief to an unrealistic expectation, I'm wasting my time with you."

"Sweet. That's nice. Hey, thanks for inviting me in, you've got Satan hanging around your pad watching you in the shower, well-- ta ta!"

"I'd be more inclined to stay and offer my services if you treated me with some respect," Stephen gritted out,  patience wearing thin.

"Offer your services? Are you going to conduct a séance next and ask me to hold your hand?"

Strange narrowed his eyes, and got up, staring Tony in the eyes. The two men stood like that for a solid few seconds, jaws clenched and eye contact unwavering. Finally, Stephen relaxed himself, and turned away. "Thank you for reaching out to me, Mr. Stark. I'll send you the bill."

Tony watched, rooted to the spot, as Stephen made for the door. His red robe swept the floor behind him, brow aggravated into a frown. Tony's jaw felt slack, as if he couldn't move it, and he felt his gut twist as the psychic reached for the doorknob.

"Wait."

Stephen smiled a little, but dropped it as he turned. "What is it?"

"I'm..." Tony sucked on his bottom lip, sticking his hands in his hoodie pockets, "I'm sorry. I... do this--- thing. When I get scared, or anxious about something, I lash out, and... it's hard to stop myself when my mouth opens. I didn't mean to be that much of a dick."

Stephen nodded once. "Okay."

Tony processed this, as if his brain had short circuited. "...Okay?"

"Yes," Stephen replied, and Tony balked as the psychic came back in. Usually, after something like that, anyone he had been with before would leave him to regret everything he just said on his own. Strange... wasn't leaving. And he accepted Tony's apology?

He rejoined the psychic, warily watching him.

"So. A demon," he said awkwardly. Stephen nodded again. "Oh god, what am I gonna tell Peter?"

"I suggest you only tell him what you have to as things go on. From what I've seen of him, he's an..." Stephen took a deep breath. Tony gave him a look that dared him to insult his son, and Strange put his hands up. "Excitable kid."

"Yeah, well, ADHD can do that to ya," Tony said with a slightly defensive edge. Stephen's gaze softened, and he put a hand on Tony's arm.

"I wasn't being rude. I was an "excitable" kid too."

"You mellowed out," Tony mentioned drily.

"I did. The accident forced me to focus my energy into my gifts, rather than my shall we say, hyperactive mind. I had to slow everything down, which was near impossible." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but resisted. "You'll need to get an exorcist, if this is like any other demon I've dealt with--"

Suddenly, the ground began to shake. The lamps swung on the ceiling, at first gently and then violently. The lights flickered, and dust fell from above. Tony looked up.

"Peter."

They both ran upstairs.

* * *

_Peter had his eyes wide open, but he could tell he was in some sort of lucid dream state. He looked down at his hands and tried to push his thumb through the other palm, since he read some wikihow once on how to know when you're dreaming._

_He was startled out of his experiment as he heard Tony talking just outside his door._

_"Hey Pete. Uh... mom's real sorry, but she can't make it down for the birthday cake tonight. She'd love for you to take her up a piece in bed, though."_

_"Dad? Is that you?" he called cautiously, frowning. It sounded as if his voice was echoing in a cathedral. The words outside his door became deeper... but Peter could still hear it clearly._

_"Peter... fun isn't how you would think of what I'm going to do to you..."_

_"Dad?!" Peter tried again._

_"B u t  m a k i n g  y o u  b l e e d  w i l l  p u t  a  s m i l e  o n  m y  f a c e."_

_Peter came to the conclusion that this was not his dad. Suddenly, he began to hear the opening notes of that song from The Shining. Just as fast as it came, it began to drown out._

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

_Peter ripped his gaze back, feeling his forehead. Something was dripping on him from the ceiling... but that wasn't the ceiling... that was the floor... above him?_

_As he studied the floorboards to make sure this was really what he saw, he noticed the wood splintering. Through the floor, he saw a face... and a fist, reaching up, up, up for him--_

* * *

Tony and Stephen came to the first door on the left. Standing in front of it, they looked at each other. Tony's eyebrows furrowed.

"Say, doc... you wouldn't happen to be moving your hair right now, would you?" Tony asked softly.

Stephen swallowed, feeling his hair brush his forehead from a gust. "Not at the moment, no."

Apprehensively, they opened the door, and Tony took a step back. Peter was lying there, fast asleep... facing the ground, five feet in the air.

"Strange, you pulling any magician crap, or is he--?" Tony murmured.

"Do not make any sudden movements," Stephen advised quietly, and held a hand up. Peter snored on, blissfully ignorant, as Tony took a step closer... closer...

Just as he reached the frame, the door slammed shut in his face, and there was a huge bang against the floor.

"Mmf! Dad?! D...DAD?! OH MY--"

"OPEN THE DOOR!" Tony told Stephen.

"I can't manipulate matter with my mind! I'm a psychic, not... Professor X!"

"Then break it down, that's my son in there," Tony urged, desperate to get in to Peter. Stephen rolled up his sleeves, and tried the door a few times before bursting his way in. Peter rushed over, practically tackling Tony in a hug around the middle.

"Dad!"

"It's okay, you're alright."

"Dad, you wouldn't believe the dream I just had... I-I was floating, right; then I saw this big guy with dark eyes, he was reaching toward me. His fist was as big as my head.. I didn't know what he wanted dad, but I remember feeling really cold-- and then, I was looking at the floor, and the floor was bleeding all over me, but how could the floor do that, it's a floor--"

"Forget about it, it was just a dream," Tony told him, after a weary look from Stephen. After making sure Peter was safe, secure, and back in his room alright, Tony closed the door, sitting down on the top step of the staircase.

"I don't know what to do."

"An exorcist, I told you--"

"What if an exorcist doesn't work? And what if shit happens before the person who does the exorcism gets here? Look me in the eye, doc, and tell me how dangerous this guy is."

"I know nothing about whatever it is, I am not qualified to--"

"I can't believe I'm asking you this, but what do you _feel_?!"

Strange went quiet, and stared at Tony. "Fine. The force that is living in your house is malevolent. It wants to kill you and Peter. I suggest you move as soon as possible."

"No, but that's the thing," Tony begged Stephen, urging him to sit down, "I just moved him here. I can't move him again, he's just adjusting, making friends."

"I'm sure he can make friends elsewhere, he's a nice kid."

"Stephen, you don't get it. I can't keep uprooting us when something goes sideways. There's a possibility this demon thing is attached to us, isn't there?"

"I..."

"Seriously, is there?"

Stephen rubbed his eyes. "A fraction of a possibility, yes. But the energy was coming from the _house_ , Stark, that much I could tell--"

"Doesn't matter, if it follows us, we're fucked." He held his head in his hands for a minute, before an idea hit him. "Jesus Christ, I'm a genius."

"Your humility astounds me," Strange huffed.

_"Nah, but I'm out of my mind."_

"That too."

"...You."

Stephen frowned. "...what about me?"

Tony got up, grinning. "You son of a bitch, of course!"

"What did I do?" Stephen got up as well, inclining his head.

"You're a psychic."

"Really? I had no idea."

"You smartass sonofabitch, you're gonna stay with us."

Strange's frown lifted, and he began to shake his head, brushing past Tony. "No."

"Doc!"

"Out of the question, Stark, I told you what your next steps should be, that's all I'm good for in this situation."

"You said it yourself, you've dealt with demons before!"

"Not like this one!"

"Can't you try?!"

Something in Tony's voice made Stephen pause. It wasn't the pleading look. It wasn't the big, brown eyes Tony was looking at Stephen with, eyes that were brimmed with tears. It certainly wasn't the fact that Tony's hair had gotten even messier from that whole ordeal with Peter. It was the explosion Stephen could feel inside of him, of desperation, anxiety, fear, confusion. The tremendous feeling of loss that came from him, obviously from Pepper, was scaring him-- he was scared he would lose Peter too, and it broke Stephen's heart.

Did he really have any other jobs lined up? No. He was mostly living off of his savings from when he worked in the hospital. Still... he didn't want to get in the way of this family, and knowing him, he would, if his attraction to Tony was anything to go by. Sure, he could trust his own restraint, but he didn't know what he could expect from Tony.

In the end, a job was a job.

"I want a thousand a day."

"Done."

"I sleep as far away from you as possible."

"No problem."

"...and as much as I enjoy our witty banter," Stephen pursed his lips in a sardonic smile, "Let's keep it to a minimum, so we don't drive each other out of our minds prematurely."

"Sounds like a deal," Tony held out a hand, eyes flickering down and his tongue swiping across his lips. Stephen forced himself not to look at that, shaking Tony's hand.

* * *

"You've got a psychic living with you?" Ned asked at school the next day. Peter nodded.

"He's really tall and he looks like a wizard."

"Like Dumbledore?"

Peter thought for a moment. "More like Narcissa Malfoy hair with a slightly Snape-like attitude."

"Does he have a cape?"

"Sorta."

"Can he bend stuff by looking at it?"

"No man, he's not Professor X."

"Why's he there then?" Melissa cut in, eating a fry.

"I mean nobody'll really talk to me about it, but it's obviously because of the ghost in our house."

"Your house is haunted?!" Ned screeched, and Peter nodded proudly.

"Oh yeah. We got like... five hundred ghosts in there."

"Five hundred," Melissa deadpanned.

"Living in the walls, watching me sleep."

"Have you ever seen them?" Melissa asked. Peter took to staring at the other side of the cafeteria, the energy leaving him a bit.

"Yeah. Yeah, I uh, I have."

* * *

Stephen sat down on the edge of the bed that night. After dealing with this many cases over the past five or so years, he really shouldn't be so on edge about it. But this one was different.

He wasn't exaggerating when he said this was nothing like a regular demon. Whatever it was, it was powerful, and wanted nothing more than to bring death and destruction to the family that lived here.

Stephen could lucid dream tonight, to try and figure out the origins of this place, but to be honest, he had little energy after only two days here. It was feeding off of him, he knew it, and Stephen had to let it so that it didn't turn to Tony and Peter.

Stephen listened to the noises upstairs. Peter was watching some movie-- _"Benny? Bring me everyone." "Whadya mean everyone?" "EVERYONE!"_ Stephen smiled. Leon the Professional was one of his favourites as a teenager, the kid had good taste in films.

And Tony...

Stupid genius billionaire.

Stephen closed his eyes. What was Tony doing? He focused on where his energy seemed to be in the house, and followed him. He was pacing.

The psychic opened his eyes, and fell backward onto the sheets. Stark was extremely handsome. He had tried to ignore that fact, but every time the bastard did that squinty angry thing and used that snarky mouth of his to question Stephen's every move, he was reminded of it.

"Fuck," Stephen groaned, unsure if that was a statement or a request.

And what about Peter? He had made Stephen _smile_ today.

Kids were once an option for him. Christine, before he had blown that, had wanted a kid, but Stephen had been adamantly opposed to the idea. Though his ex-girlfriend had claimed he was good with them, he always saw children as a roadblock to his career.

_Of course, that all derailed with the accident._

Really focusing on his psychic abilities was nice sometimes, though. Other times, you had to live with the pain of other people's pain. Tony had a lot of pain... Stephen just couldn't unlock it all yet.

A long scrape perked the psychic up a little. He stalled his thoughts, and heard another. Then another. It was as if something was scratching its way down the walls.

Rats? Stephen frowned. No. This wasn't scuffling. This was methodical.

"Who's there?" he asked, sitting straight up again. "Show yourself."

He waited for what seemed like an eternity. The house was dark, and everything was quiet... painfully quiet, not so much as a cricket chirping outside. He reached over slowly, and turned out the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

Scrape. Scrape.

Stephen looked behind him. Whatever it was, it was making its way up the walls behind his bed. He held his hands against the plaster.

"You are not welcome in this house."

The scraping got louder, and Stephen swallowed.

"What are you?" No answer. He waited for a few minutes, then pressed his ear up against the wall where the noises were coming from. This time, it sounded as if the scraping was coming from directly beneath... from the basement.

 _"What are you?"_ he repeated. He held his breath.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

Stephen jerked away from the wall, chest heaving, and turned-- to find a face right at his, grinning.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

Stephen felt tiny cuts slice into his cheeks. Letting out a noise, he grabbed for the lamp, and brightened the room. The face was gone.

"That's right," he breathed, bringing a finger up to the trickling blood on his face, "You deal with me, not them."


	4. Chapter 4

Back at the house the next day, Tony was hard at work. He was video chatting with two coworkers, Happy and Shuri.

"I was thinking the slim design would go over well with the next model, the Swedish investors really like it," Tony was saying, and Happy rolled his eyes.

"Always going for looks, no practicality, Tony!"

"Why can't we have both looks and practicality?" Shuri asked.

"Who's my favourite technological engineer?" Tony flashed a smile at her, "By the way, got another email from your brother, Shur. Wants to have lunch with me to discuss a public cross promotional."

"Very nice," Happy said.

"I know it's just a front, he's been after me since day one," Tony winked, and Shuri laughed.

"You wish!" Tony laughed with her, until he heard thudding up the stairs from the lower floor suite.

"I'm sorry, could you keep it down?" Stephen's voice floated up. He had gotten about two hours of sleep the night before due to the disruption.

"No no, I should be the one apologizing," Tony narrowed his eyes, "I was unaware you slept until 2 in the afternoon."

"I wasn't sleeping, I was charging."

"What are you, a battery?"

"Very funny," Strange nodded, "This house is draining me, emotionally. I've been experiencing nothing but intensely dark, negative emotions 24/7, and it's only been three fucking days."

"It's probably just you," Tony quipped, "And what happened to your face? You look like you fell on a nail gun."

"What is this crazy man in the bathrobe doing in your house?!" Shuri demanded through the laptop.

"Look Tony, I'm glad you got laid again, but can your boytoy wait for a minute?" Happy asked in exasperation, and almost at the same time, Strange and Tony both blurted angrily:

"I am NOT sleeping with him!"

"We are NOT sleeping together!"

Happy put his hands up, and Stephen crossed his arms as he descended the steps. "Besides, if we were, _he_ would be _my_ boytoy."

Tony opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, wiping the slight smile off his face. "I'm... going to allow that."

"Back to business?" Happy tapped the screen, as Shuri stifled more laughter.

Peter got home around 3:30, as their place was pretty close to the school. Tony was cooking dinner, which Stephen was helping out with.

"Wow. That's real nice of you to help, sir," Peter said, and Stephen looked up.

"You don't have to call me that."

"Sure, Mr. Strange."

Stephen sighed, and Tony ripped up some lettuce into a salad. "How was school, Pete?"

"Fine," Peter shrugged, "Liz talked to me 4 times today."

"4? That's a record."

"I thought so too, but then I remembered she talked to me 5 times last Wednesday."

"Darn, better beat it on Monday."

"I'd like to, but--"

"Liz?" Stephen cut in, "Is she a girl you like?"

Tony frowned at Strange, but Peter nodded seamlessly. "She's gorgeous and I'm in love with her."

"Okay. So on Monday, I want you to find the meanest, douchiest guy in your entire school..."

"Right," Peter sat forward eagerly, nodding along.

"--and punch him out right in front of her."

Tony's mouth hung open. "Where is this advice coming from?"

"I have experience."

"Really? I thought your hands were rendered useless or something."

Stephen waggled his pinkies in Tony's face, though his sleeves stayed over them. "Oh yeah, the scars are cosmetic, my life is a lie."

"Thought you were touchy about your nerve damage," Tony returned.

"How can I be, when you bring it up so often?"

"Back to the point at _hand_ \--" Tony smirked.

"You're funny. So funny."

"I am fucking funny-- Peter, don't you dare say swear jar-- now how and why exactly did you punch out a douchebag for a girl?"

"Well, I was a _kid_."

"Yeah? Any childhood traumas you're suppressing, Strange?"

"I'm trying to help your son, Stark."

"Yeah, that's right, _my_ son, let me do the talking." Stephen pursed his lips, going back to chopping the peppers and thereby ending their flurry of conversation the teenager was trying to keep track of. Tony leaned in to Peter. "Okay... try it his way, tell me how it goes buddy."

Peter grinned, and got up. "Sure thing. Thanks, dad! Doctor dad!"

The two men paused, and Peter dashed off as they stared at each other.

* * *

Tony lay in bed again that night, the same blank white of the ceiling encompassing his vision.

Stephen was getting on his _fucking nerves._ Still... Tony had never met anyone quite like him. Everyone else he had ever been with, he was the leading man. All except for one.

Steve.

Tony never really spent that much time thinking about the ex-military man, especially after Pepper. But having another guy in the house, however irritating, reminded Tony of him. Despite his obsession with early morning runs and old western movies, he felt safe in Steve's arms. He just couldn't get why the man hadn't tried to understand his anxiety. Weren't army guys supposed to know all about that stuff? 

Tony never figured it out. Maybe Steve used it as some kind of scapegoat to get out of the relationship... he was always close with that Bucky guy he knew overseas, but Tony wasn't the jealous type, so he let it go.

Then Pepper.

He had to admit, it hurt some small part of him that this entity wasn't Pepper at all. One night's peace he had gotten, imagining her in the room with him, even just her spirit.Of course, life hated Tony, and what had life given him now? An angry demon, a hot ornery psychic, and fearful insomnia.

A bump sounded downstairs, and Tony listened through the vents above him, paranoid now. Soon though, an "ow" floated up, and he realized it was Stephen (really, too tall for this house), knocking his head on that beam again.

_Damn psychic. He should be able to anticipate that stupid beam._

Tony crossed his arms, and buried himself under his blankets, staring at his nightstand. It held a near-drained glass of water, reading glasses, and a book on "calming the soul". As lame as it sounded, it was a gift from Natasha, and it actually helped him through a lot.

 As he drifted off, he tried not to think of the man downstairs or the creaks and bumps above him.

* * *

_Tony rolled over in bed a few times, breathing softly. As he changed positions, he felt comforting arms around him-- they were gentle, female._

_"Pep..." he smiled, and she nuzzled his neck._

_"Hey."_

_Tony's smile grew, and he held onto her hands. "Hey."_

_She kissed all the way up to his lips, familiar taste of champagne and vanilla lip balm... until Tony twitched a little. The lips were no longer soft-- there was stubble, and they tasted like toothpaste._

_"Tony..."_

_"Steve?"_

_"How are you?"_

_Tony swallowed, opening his eyes to see the ex-soldier's own. He now felt encapsulated by bigger, stronger arms. "Don't..." Tony stuttered, trying to push away, "Don't pretend like you care. You left."_

_"But I'm right here," Steve mumbled, so slow and easy that Tony was lulled back into accepting the embrace._

_"You... you left me... when I needed you the most..." he whispered._

_"You got Pepper."_

_"Yeah... but she's gone too."_

_Just then, Tony felt the arms around him tighten, to the point of pain. A sensation of dread washed over him, and his entire body turned icy cold. Then, a deep, raspy voice spoke in his ear._

_"She is. And soon, you and your son will be joining her."_

* * *

Tony awakened with a gasp as the door opened, the light clicking on. Tony tried to scream, and sat straight up. "S-Strange! Why... are you here?!" Stephen was about to croak out an answer, then realized Tony was having a panic attack.

"I'm..." Tony tried to wave, but Stephen ran over.

"You're fine," Stephen kept repeating, staying right in front of Tony, "Breathe in. That's it. Again. Okay." Tony clutched at his chest, and finally began to regain his calm. "You're alright," Stephen mumbled, blinking away sleep.

"And you're... jesus, very... naked?!"

"I'm not naked you drama queen, I'm in boxers," Stephen slurred, "I was in deep REM sleep, when I heard you... moaning."

"Right..." Tony rubbed his face, regaining his composure, "so you thought you'd come watch me jerk off?"

"I know the difference between nightmare moaning and sex moaning, dipshit," Strange shot back, and that, combined with his gravelly sleep voice, shouldn't have turned Tony on so much.

"Well... you're still pretty naked."

"Oh yeah? Look at you."

"Yeah, this is my god damn room!"

"You hired me to help, I'm helping."

"I don't need you to be my therapist."

"You don't want me to help you with your obvious anxiety?! Fine! Consider me completely apathetic!" Stephen bit, then took a deep breath as he looked away from Tony's downcast eyes. Just outside the door, Peter listened. He knew his dad got these attacks... he always helped him, but when anyone else did, he got pretty touchy.

 _It wasn't Mr. Strange's fault though._ Peter scratched his head, and walked back to his room.

Stephen tore his eyes away from the self-help book on Tony's night stand. "What happened in the dream?"

Tony shifted, unwilling to disclose his lineup of past romances to Strange. "He... knew about her. About Pepper. And he had me in this... hold, uh..."

"He's getting into your dreams, Stark... both yours and Peter's. He's more powerful than I thought-- like I said, I've never dealt with something like this."

"Then why did we hire you to stay here again?" Tony closed his eyes, feeling those arms around him tighten and tighten.

"Because currently, I'm the only one standing between you and your son burning alive in your beds." At Tony's horrified expression, Stephen nodded. "Yes, he can do that." The psychic crossed his arms. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Why, wanna take me out, doc?" Tony croaked, rubbing his eyes.

"I'll pass. We need to do some reading."

Tony looked at Stephen, and nodded once. Books always had answers.


	5. Chapter 5

"So you know a guy with books, did you date a librarian or something?" Tony asked, walking briskly alongside Stephen in a black hoodie. Stephen wore brown sweatpants and a red tee. Tony had never seen his biceps before, despite living around (yes around-- he was not living _with_ ) him. They were magnificently toned.

"Stop staring at my biceps Stark, no I did not date him, but he's a close friend of mine."

"Be honest, have you tried stuff with him?" This was Tony's way of casually getting the feel for Stephen's sexuality. Stephen sighed, a Tony Stark resulting headache coming on.

"He prefers the company of old tomes to people, to be honest."

"Too bad."

"Yes, I'm afraid not everyone can be as charming as you are." Stephen wished that sounded more sarcastic. Tony took a sip from the black Starbucks roast he had in a travel mug, willing the caffeine to work faster. It was only 8AM, not cool for a Saturday. Since Tony worked from home, it wasn't like he couldn't sleep in any other day of the week, but last night hadn't been one of his best, and the sunny morning with his not so sunny companion was killing him. He slipped on a pair of $200 Ray Bans, and looked around.

They had walked out of the wealthy suburb he and Peter lived in, and into a small, artsy upstate town around the area Tony had found Stephen's shop. They came to a storefront, and Stephen stopped, opening the door.

"After you," he said, and Tony blew a kiss to the psychic as they entered. A small bell tinkled, and the door shut again. It was warm inside, and a little dusty, with huge books stacked to the ceiling in piles all over the place. It wasn't completely deserted, as Tony had expected it to be-- there were three other people milling around.

"Hello?" Stephen called. No answer. Tony frowned.

"Your friend sleep in?"

Stephen held up a finger, and walked to the very back of the book shop through winding pathways between book towers. They finally ended up at a small desk, where a short man was facing away and bopping his bald head. Stephen reached forward, and tugged out the man's earbuds.

"Morning."

"That was my favourite Beyonce song you just interrupted," the man said, not turning around.

"I'm sure you can pause the 800th time you've heard it for my sake, Wong."

Wong stood, and turned around, a huge grin on his face. "Stephen." They hugged, and something caught in Tony's mind.

"Wong the psychic, Wong? Dude! Literally buddy, your psychic name is so lackluster, my kid agrees, take notes."

Wong dropped his grin into a completely dead stare as he turned to Tony, crossing his arms. They faced off like this for a few seconds. As Tony began to feel afraid, Stephen stepped in, warily gazing over at Tony.

"He's okay, Wong."

The bookkeeper nodded once, and regained his cheer. "So, is he your new Christine?"

"No--"

"You loved Christine, remember when she slapped you that time after you--"

"That's okay Wong, we don't need to tell that story."

"Yes we do," Tony cut in, and Stephen glared.

"Oh you loved her very much," Wong sighed, "A shame."

Tony pretended to lose interest, as it was obviously a private topic, but he heard Stephen's quiet little hum. "My fault she left. The whole thing was my fault." He turned to face his friend, and Tony looked away behind them. "Anyway, we need your help."

"What can I do for you?" Wong smiled, clapping him on the back.

"Open a window or two," Tony pulled at his collar, and Wong (and Stephen) fixed him with another dead stare until the billionaire was scared off by the two. "O-kay, I'll just be over here," he muttered, and wandered over to a section on ancient bones.

"We need--" Stephen began to explain.

"The section on malevolent entities is over here, my friend," Wong predicted, and guided Stephen to a very old section with dusty books, a high bookcase, and a rickety ladder. "A bad case, yes?"

"Really bad," Stephen mused, looking up the bookshelf.

"Possession?" Wong lowered his voice, "Like--"

"No," Stephen cut in, "Not like that. Not yet."

"I know why you took this job," Wong said seriously, giving him a look.

"You know because you're a psychic."

"Strange," Wong put a hand on his arm, "You're going to try and save them, to make up for not being able to save her."

Stephen took a deep breath. "Let's go with that."

"But that's not all."

"--Knew you weren't finished."

"You _care_ for this man and his boy."

Stephen caught Wong's eye. "That's not why." Wong deepened his gaze.

"If this is as dangerous as you fear--"

"What?" Stephen whispered, "Are you going to tell me to walk away? I can't do that, not now."

Wong shook his head. "No. You will do what you think is right-- you are very stubborn and I would rather go back to my Beyonce than waste my breath on any wise words. I was just going to wish you good fortune." The doctor looked away, letting a smile through.

"Thanks. I think I'll find my way from here." Wong patted the taller man on the shoulder amiably with a nod, and walked over to Tony, who was opening a giant book on prehistoric burial rituals.  

"Remember, Mr. Stark," Wong narrowed his eyes with menace, "These books are worth more than your life."

"He's kidding!" Stephen called from two rows down.

"I am not kidding," Wong whispered, and glared as he walked away. Tony scoffed after him.

"I'm worth more than this entire store's contents, Wong, but thanks for the friendly little tip." He looked down at the book, and accidentally ripped a corner as he turned the page. "Shit," he gasped, and tossed the book down.

About an hour later, Tony was now taking a nap on the rickety ladder as Stephen pored over three books at once. Stephen kicked his shin with the tip of his shoe.

"Care to help?"

"You're better at doing the hard stuff."

"How do you know?"

"I just... know. i'M a PsYcHiC!"

Stephen placed a book in his hands, and looked at him expectantly. "Read."

"Doc..."

"Do you wanna figure this out, or don't you?"

Tony spent a long time looking at him, then suddenly got up, walking out. Strange sat there, stunned into silence for a moment. Really, it was just a little reading! The asshole could at least give him a hand, since it was happening in his house, affecting his son. After everything he had done for them! That prissy, smug, stuck up, princess of a rich bitch, lazy, arrogant, self-centered...

By the time Stephen had finished mentally insulting Tony, the single father had returned with two large steaming lattes in hand, one for each of them.

"What? You don't think I'm that much of an asshole to just leave you hear mid-research, do you?" Tony smirked. "Don't answer that. Here." Stephen smiled a little as he accepted the latte, muttering a small thank you. Their fingers brushed as the drinks were exchanged, and Tony lost his train of thought as Stephen blushed.

"I used to do this all the time in college," Tony said softly, looking at Stephen's lips, then back up.

"What?" Stephen startled.

"Pull all nighters in the library with bottomless coffee. I should technically have an ulcer by now." Tony smiled a little. Stephen was the first person who hadn't been surprised about hearing Tony actually studied in school.

"Oh," Stephen breathed out, "Right. Me too. Not... the coffee thing. I prefer tea. Not that this latte isn't good! It is." _Dammit Stephen, you're always such a smooth talker! What's wrong with you?!_ "One time I actually brought a tea pot with me to the library at Columbia before a huge exam, drank eight cups in six hours and wore my pajamas to the test. Aced it, of course, but I was so high on caffeine, I started hearing Albert Einstein whispering me the answers." _That story didn't help._

"I'd love to see you wigged out on caffeine," Tony teased.

"No you wouldn't," Stephen assured with a chuckle. They kept staring.  "Um..." he murmured.

"Research," Tony said, and Stephen nodded along.

"Yes, start from the second shelf."

"Roger that." They each opened another book, and a minute went by.

"Are you two drinking macchiatos beside my three hundred year old books?!" Wong called.

"No!"

"No."

* * *

"Here, look at this," Tony said, breaking the hour long silence. Stephen ripped his gaze away from the third page of an old book on demons, and put his coffee cup down, looking over to Tony's book.

"What is it?"

"A spirit that resembles a person... with a face you can see either in a dream state or awake. Acts like a poltergeist, disrupts the home, and can make tangible contact with your physical form, as well as infiltrate and manipulate your mind. It fits."

"What does it say about the type of entity?" Stephen asked, suddenly realizing he was leaning in only inches away from Tony's face. He moved away, and took the book. "A deceased soul, twisted into a demonic presence by hatred, vengeance, or bloodlust." Stephen looked up. "Definitely fits."

"So... the guy in our house--" Tony shook his head, "Still sounds weird-- the guy was once alive?"

"Yes," Stephen scanned the page again, "He used to be a man. Someone very disturbed, but living. Once he died, his soul was so warped by what he did in his life, that it carried past death, and twisted him into--"

"A demon."

"Yeah," Stephen nodded.

"So some creepy... fucked up sadist who used to be a _dude_ is in my kid's dreams?"

"Essentially."

"You better get rid of this guy, Strange."

Stephen closed the book, powdering his black hair with dust, and looked at the cover.

"To do that, we first need to figure out who died in your house, and what motive he may have to hurt you." Stephen got up, and went over to Wong at the back again. "One more favour. You've been living in the suburbs longer than I have-- who used to live at 113 Guantlet Avenue?"

Wong held up a finger. "Give me one minute. I must consult the spirits of the mirror dimension."

"Damn," Tony muttered as Wong retreated into a back room for a second, "He's the real deal."

Stephen frowned, and Wong came back out.

"Yes.  113 Guantlet Avenue is a very dark place, with a gruesome past. The last owner of the house was a man named Thanos--"

"Oh, great name," Tony nodded.

"--He had two daughters, and was described from the outside as a loving father-- until they found six mutilated bodies in the basement, taken over the course of two years."

Tony groaned, and Stephen made a face.

"They were all people who had gone missing in the immediate area-- Thanos knew he had been discovered, so before he could be taken, he stabbed himself with a very old dagger he had stolen that belonged to the church. He used it in all his killings, and in the end, he used it on himself. The police took the girl who stayed-- the other one vanished after the discovery-- and found a note in the house that told them of Thanos' twisted motive; to take matters into his own hands, and balance out the population through ritual killings."

"So, all this happened in my house?" Tony deadpanned, "In my basement."

"Yes," Stephen whispered.

"Fun times," Tony nodded, "Real fun times, uh-- his plan was a little shitty though, don't you think? Balance out the population with what, an old knife? I don't think he knew how genocide works."

Wong shrugged. "He got caught before he could finish, I suppose."

"Right. Quick question, how'd you get all that from your little psychic session back there, Wong?"

"Yes... who exactly on the other side did you ask?" Stephen huffed, astonished. Wong smiled, holding up his phone.

"Google."

Tony snorted. "I like you."

Stephen thought of something. "Wong, did you happen to catch the name of the daughter who stayed?"


	6. Chapter 6

"So what, Wong's like... ten times more in tune with his psychic abilities than you?" Tony asked, the two of them walking to the address that the bookkeeper gave them.

"No, he's just been living here longer than I have."

"I don't know, it seemed like he could tap right into that mirror world or whatever to come up with this address like that--" Tony clapped, "--no problem, whereas you've gotta do that whole warm up thing--"

"It's not a warm up," Stephen snapped, "There are certain people who have the gift that can use it penetrate minds in a stronger way."

"Still, Wong beats you for time."

"It's not about time, it's about accuracy."

"Pretty accurate," Tony stopped them, pointing two fingers at the house they had been directed to. Stephen scowled at him, and Tony winked.

They walked up the pathway, and knocked on the door. It was a relatively normal house, a few blocks down from Tony's place. It wasn't as big as his house, but none really were.

"Coming!" a male voice shouted on the other side of the door, and after a few seconds, it opened. Silence sizzles between them.

"You."

_"You?"_

The blonde man who opened the door had scruff around his chin, muscles, and a look to kill. "You two... know each other?" Stephen asked slowly, apprehensive.

"Ask your magic ball, Gandalf," Tony muttered.

"Wait... did you two...?"

"No, god no! He's a douchebag I met at the store!"

"Oh, I'm the douchebag, douchebag?" the blonde guy scoffed, "You were chattin' up my wife!" Stephen raised an eyebrow at Tony, who balked.

"I asked where the god damn dairy free _yogurt_ was, shitface."

"Again, who eats dairy free yogurt?"

"It's not uncommon," Stephen frowned.

"Thanks for your input, Criss Angel," blonde guy smiled.

"My name is _Stephen Strange_ ," Stephen replied in exasperation.

"And mine is Peter Quill, what the fuck are you two doing on my lawn?!"

"Peter," they all heard a woman say, and arms wrapped around the agitated guy's middle, "You sound like a grumpy old man." The woman from the store smiled at Tony, and Stephen. "Sorry. He's not usually such an asshole."

Peter seemed to be considering this, as the woman invited them in. "I'm Gamora Quill," she said, encouraging them to sit down, "You've met my loving husband Peter."

Tony huffed, and Peter sighed. "I may have been a little bit of a hardass. Look, I know a lot of people wanna fuck my wife, but I'm protective, okay?"

"I DO NOT WANT TO FUCK YOUR WIFE!" Tony blurted, and Quill's eyebrows shot up. 

"Oh, so you think she's ugly?" 

Stephen sat quietly. "What the hell is happening right now?"

Peter started to chuckle. "Alright, alright. I'm kidding. Anyway, why the hell were you guys on my porch? What's up, neighbourhood watch or something?" He leaned back. "Honey, did we miss a meeting?!"

"We're not neighbourhood watch," Stephen cut in, rubbing his temples. "We were actually hoping to talk to Gamora."

Peter shrugged, and got up. "Hey, Mora? They've got a question for you."

"Kay," she pecked him on the lips, "You're making dinner tonight, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," Peter grinned, pulling a fist, "Chicken nuggets and bagel bites it is, babay!" He started some seventies classic rock in the kitchen as Gamora smiled and shook her head.

"You want something to drink?" she asked. Tony sat forward, anxious to ask the questions they came with.

"Thanks, but we don't have much time." She nodded, and took a seat.

"What can I do for you boys?" Stephen and Tony looked at each other, and took a collective deep breath.

"I know this may be hard for you, Mrs. Quill," Stephen said carefully, "But we've come to talk about your father."

Gamora's kind smile melted away, and her eyes froze over. "My father's dead." She got up, but Tony stood as well.

"He's back." Gamora scoffed, and turned. She tried to present a tough face, but her hands were shaking.

"That isn't possible."

Stephen got Tony's attention, and told him to sit down silently. "Of course it isn't, he was just... being an idiot, what we mean to say is, the story has... unearthed itself in a matter concerning us and our family--" he caught himself, "--his family's well being."

Gamora shook her head in bewilderment. "I don't see what he has to do with you, please leave."

"Mrs. Quill, we just moved to the neighbourhood," Tony said, "We moved into your old house." Gamora lost her breath for a second.

"Then leave. Get out of there."

"They can't," Stephen sighed, "It's complicated. Look, can you tell us about the pattern of his murders?"

"What?! Can't police reports tell you that?!"

"We'd also like to know what frightened your father."

"Why could you possibly have to know that?" she snapped, "This is crazy, get _out_ of my house--" Peter came in from the kitchen, regarding his wife's angry expression.

"Babe, what's up? What's going on?" he asked softly.

"Gamora," Tony said, "Look, I have a kid. He's 16. His life's in danger right now if we don't figure out how to stop your dad." Gamora stopped, eyes filling with tears.

"Stop her dad?" Peter's face twisted. "Her dad is--"

"Dead, thanks for the input James Dean," Stephen smirked, volleying Peter's earlier comment back at him. As Peter worked this out, Gamora buried her face in her husband's chest. 

"I can't."

"Please," Tony asked. Gamora looked up, and wiped her eyes.

"You have to understand something. My father--" it seemed as if even saying it caused her pain, "--was a psychopath. He believed everything should be balanced... the rich and the poor, happy and depressed, even how many people were..." She closed her eyes. "He was mad. He had no pattern to who he killed, it was random, and he wasn't scared of anything. But I can tell you what he loved." She looked off for a second, then nodded. "That dagger."

"From the church?" Tony filled in. She hesitated.

"How...? Yes, that one. He kept it down in the basement..." she shuddered, "We weren't allowed down there, me and my sister. Of course, now I know why-- look, I don't like talking about it. Have I told you enough?"

Stephen nodded, and stood. "Thank you for your time. Again, we wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't of the utmost importance." They got their stuff together, and headed back to the door to go.

"That house..." They both turned to find her standing in the hallway. "...that house is evil. Just like he was." As she turned back to hold Peter, they left before they could upset her anymore.

"Well, that frankly got us nowhere on how to get rid of him," Stephen noted, "Though we did learn he had no method to the madness, therefore no reason he'd specifically be targeting you and Peter other than you living there and being readily accessible to dispatch."

"So, nowhere," Tony echoed. 

* * *

They got home, and Tony tossed the keys on the table.

"Pete, you home?" 

He then found a note on the kitchen counter, beside a plate of roast tofu beef and string beans.

_Hey dad/doctor dad,_

_I'm out on a date with Liz at the movies! Mr. Strange's plan worked :) :O :) ;) no no winky faces scratch that nothing winky happening tonight sir, no sir._

_I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the date before I went on it (I knew you would want to hear the story but it was kind of a spur of the moment thing and you guys were out). Anyway I felt bad so I made some dinner, it's probably cold now so put it in the microwave._

_Okay I'm going on my date now! I'll be home by 9! 10 maybe? Can I stay out til 10 cause I made you dinner? Thanks! See you at 10, dad!_

_(and doctor dad)_

_-Pete_

"He really needs to stop calling me that," Strange said, reading over Tony's shoulder. Tony smiled to himself, and soon, Stephen could feel him shaking with laughter. He smiled too, thinking of Peter's quirky mile-a-minute way of talking, which showed in the letter. He stopped smiling quickly though, when he realized Tony wasn't laughing-- but crying.

"Stark?" The name came out like a breath.

"I can't let Thanos get him, Stephen. He's all I have left."

Stephen paused. That was the first time Tony had referred to him by his first name.

"He won't."

"Yeah," Tony nodded, sniffling and looking down at the note, "That's bullshit."

"I'm sorry?"

"We can't protect him. You heard Gamora, you heard her talk about him. He was a monster, and now he's even worse. How the hell are we gonna get rid of him, huh?! The stupid book didn't think to mention that! Oh, here's the fucker you're dealing with, now off you go, defenceless against the great purple people eater that's decided to move back into his old digs!"

Stephen didn't know what to say. Yeah, he was good at words, but he wasn't the best at comforting. He was scared for Peter too. He was scared for Peter and Tony. It also scared him that he would genuinely mourn if anything did happen to the teenager and his dad.

Tony was still crying. He needed to do something. _Don't kiss him. Do not kiss him. Do not kiss him. Stephen Strange, back awaaay from the billionaire._

For better or for worse, Stephen listened to logic... sort of. He placed a hand over Tony's, giving it a comforting, hopefully platonic seeming squeeze. "You got any... good movies around here?" he muttered, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes. Tony wiped his eyes, and gave a relieved smile.

Worrying about Thanos could wait.   


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human!Thanos is mentioned here, he basically looks like Josh Brolin, btw.

_"Shhh... it will all be over soon."_

_Stephen watched from what appeared to be a window as a tall man circled a chair, clutching something in his right hand. Stephen squinted. The man had brown hair brushed over to one side, a thick, muscular build, and penetrating dark eyes._

_"It's for the good of the world. You should be honoured."_

_A staircase. Dripping from the ceiling, water from the pipes. Stephen was looking into Tony's basement... but it wasn't Tony's. It dawned on him. This is what Thanos looked like when he was alive._

_"One by one... I will balance everything."_

_"This is madness," the man in the chair said, struggling with his bindings. He had long dark hair and pale skin, and Stephen tried to squint, but the victim's face was a blur. "You don't have to do this."_

_"People always say that..." Thanos mused, circling the chair, "But I do. I do have to do this." He held the man in the chair, and positioned the knife right at his neck._

_"When my brother finds you... you'll have nowhere to run," the man breathed, and Thanos chuckled._

_"I'll be waiting."_

_The knife came down, and the man screamed. With every stab, more blood hit the window. Soon, it was becoming too stained to see through, but Stephen could hear footsteps. He tried to back away from the pane, but for the first time in his life, he found he could not control his dream._

_Thump._

_Thump._

_A fist wiped the blood from the window, and Stephen came face to face with a smile._

_The window shattered into a billion pieces as Thanos reached through, as did the dream as_ Stephen sat up in bed, heaving.

Catching a glimpse into how he carried out the murders had unnerved Stephen. That morning at breakfast, he was entrenched in reading through the book they had taken from Wong for the third time over. Tony was sipping at his second coffee, and Peter was regaling them with the tale of his date from the night before, where they had gone to see Aliens at an old classics theatre in Soho.

"--And then, she turned to me, okay, and she looked so beautiful, so I leaned in, but then she said 'Peter wait, this is the good part where the facehuggers pop out!' and I think I'm in love with her, dad."

"Now don't rush into this," Tony cautioned, "I'm happy for you, Pete, I am, but she's your first girlfriend."

"She's my girlfriend?!" Peter blurted, then grinned. "Yeah... I guess she is!"

"For Christ's sake," Stephen muttered, and Tony narrowed his eyes.

"You got a problem with my boy, Strange?"

Stephen looked up, and stared between the two. "What? No. Sorry Peter, you'll have to fill me in again later, I was reading this book... there's nothing in here that says anything about how to get rid of Thanos."

"Oh right," Peter's eyebrows raised as he sat forward, "You guys went bookstore hopping yesterday right? To find a way to get rid of this creep?"

"This creep is more than just a creep, buddy," Tony informed him.

"What is he, like an otherworldly tentacle banshee?" Peter asked.

"Something like that. Strange, what are you--"

"But what did you guys _do_ last night?" Peter interrupted, "You must have done something while I was gone."

Stephen opened his mouth, and Tony tilted his head as the psychic spoke. "What... are you insinuating?"

"Nothing! I was just talking about movies, I don't know what you guys are talking about..." Peter said, hiding his smile behind a spoonful of cereal. 

"We watched Halloween," Stephen sighed, "I wanted to watch When Harry Met Sally, but your father has an extensive horror collection and really, nothing else."

"What're you talking about? I own Black Swan," Tony protested.

"You told me that was Pepper's."

"I lied, it's one of my favourite movies. She hated it."

"The horror collection was really mostly mom's," Peter commented.

"Excuse me, give me some credit," Tony huffed, "She owned like 12% of those movies before I came along."

"Uhh well--"

"An argument can be made for 15."

"Back to the book," Stephen murmured, flipping another page, "It's of no use to us if we don't know how to get rid of what's in the house."

"So what do we do?" Tony asked, finishing off his coffee. Stephen flipped the book over, and regarded the passage that talked about the author.

* * *

"God, I love your psychic powers."

"Stark, we talked about this."

"Sorry, your _gift_. Princess. Anyway, it's awesome that you can just figure out where people live," Tony said, walking alongside Stephen.

"It's helpful," Stephen agreed. "I had another dream."

"About him?"

"Yes. He was a regular man, how he looked in his life. He was, uh... killing someone."

Tony cringed. "You saw it?"

"Sort of. Through all the--" Stephen made a motion with his hand, picturing the blood. "Anyway, he's getting stronger."

"Yeah, got that. I woke up this morning with half my room trashed. Good to know he can be in two places at once."

They came up to the Brooklyn apartment, and waited for someone to come out before heading inside. They waited for the elevator. It dinged open, and they came face to face with an older man. He had white hair, a moustache, and wore dark glasses.

"Are you Thor Odinson, the author?" Stephen asked, and the elderly man laughed.

"Nah. I'm just the elevator guy!" He pointed to his nametag that read: _Stan: The Elevator Guy._

Once they made it up to the fourth floor, which is apparently where Stephen discovered Mr. Odinson lived, they walked down the hall to the very end, knocking three times. No answer.

"I swear to god, if he's not home..." Tony said, then the door swung open. Stephen blinked.

"You're Thor Odinson?"

The blonde was tall, muscular, bearded, and had his long blonde hair tied up in a loose bun. He beamed at them. "I am him, yes!"

"We expected you to be a lot..." Stephen began.

"Older," Tony said, "Less... millennial looking." 

"Trust me, I'm older than I look," Thor nodded, "What can I help you with?" Stephen held up his book, and Thor smiled. "Ah. An autograph?"

"No," Stephen said slowly, and Thor looked genuinely disappointed. "--We came to ask for your help."

Thor's expression sobered, and he invited the two in.

"Would you like some beer?" he asked, "I've got Guinness, Coors, Rickards--"

"Tea would be nice," Stephen said, and Thor huffed a laugh.

"I don't drink tea." Stephen hesitated.

"Some water then, thanks."

Thor brought them drinks, and sat down in his own chair, sipping from a huge pink, sparkly Starbucks smoothie cup. Tony read the spines of Thor's collection of books. He had some on ancient Norse mythology, some on astrophysics, some on feminist and queer theory. He pulled a book on the spectrum of gender.

"You a liberal arts major?" Tony asked.

"That belonged to my brother," Thor said, voice soft. "I gained a newfound respect for it after he died."

"I'm sorry," Stephen said, and Tony nodded.

"Didn't mean to intrude."

"By all means, do so," Thor managed a smile, "It's been a few years, I have no qualms discussing it. But that is not why you came-- any questions I can answer, I would be happy to."

Stephen nodded to him in thanks. "You wrote a book on demons. Why are you so interested in them?"

"After Loki-- my little brother-- died, I became very spiritual. I wanted to believe there was some way he could still be out there, even just a possibility. So I started reading up on ghosts, planes of existence, other worlds after death. It lead me to study demons, which fascinated me, so I wrote a book on it in my second year of college."

"Wow," Tony commented, "That's young."

"I was a very gifted young man," Thor nodded, and Tony snorted.

"Great, you and Strange can bond over your gifts while I sit here and listen in rapture."

"You're selling yourself short," Stephen muttered, "You have more gifts then I ever will you ass, you're a successful tech genius." Tony was taken aback for a second at that sudden defensive response.

"Thank you?"

Thor placed a hand over his heart, smiling widely. "You two make a magnificent couple."

Tony and Stephen looked at each other, then back at Thor. Tony waited to see what Strange would do.

"Oh, we're not together."

Tony felt a twinge, but nodded along. "Nah. Not a couple."

"Ah," Thor nodded, putting his hands up. "Awkward."

Stephen stole a glance over to Tony, and felt a little bit of an ache. It felt wrong to him to say they weren't, but... they weren't! They weren't a couple. Not... officially. _What? What was Tony thinking about at this very moment?_   

"Mr. Odinson," Strange sighed, "I was reading the passage in your book about spirits who resemble people. Those who have died and become something twisted." Thor nodded, so Tony stepped forward.

 "We're dealing with one of those."

"I am so very sorry for you," Thor grimaced, and Tony blinked.

"No, we're not... we're not looking for sympathy, we're looking for answers."

"I'm afraid I do not have them," Thor replied, "I simply wrote about it, I do not know how to banish the spirit."

"What the hell? You're telling me you're this gifted student of the occult, and you don't even know how to get rid of a demon you wrote a whole book on?!"

"I am not an exorcist," Thor huffed.

"No. You're just the only hope we've got," Tony told him firmly. Thor spent a good long time looking at the billionaire, before rubbing his temples.

"I... might have read something in an old text I found, many years ago. Not the phone type, the old book type," he winked.

"Anything you can remember will help," Stephen encouraged, ignoring the author's attempted humor.

"In order to eradicate a demon without the flawed and dangerous method of exorcism, one must find the weapon, object, whatever it was that killed this spirit in life, and use it to destroy the entity." Stephen glanced over to Tony, and they shared a look. "--be warned, my friends. I also read that if and when the proximity increases between the object and the entity, the entity will do everything in its power to eradicate the threat. The damage to the area of impact will be great."

Stephen knew immediately. The dagger. They had to find the dagger. That was what Thanos had used to kill himself, and it was what would kill him now. He could use it in a dream against him, he was already formulating the plan... but where was it now? It must be in the hands of the police, if it still existed...

"I hope this helps," Thor said earnestly, and Stephen was startled from his thoughts.

"It does," he nodded, and both of them shook hands with Thor.

"Thanks," Tony said, "You don't even know how much you've helped." Thor smiled.

"I know how it feels to lose someone you love. If I can erase the pain in any small way, it is my pleasure to do so."

Tony felt a lump in his throat. "How did you know?"

"It doesn't take a psychic to tell," Thor smiled gently, and squeezed Tony's shoulder.

As Stephen gathered his coat to leave, he noticed a picture of Thor and Loki hanging on the wall, Thor dressed in a brown coat and jeans while Loki had a black suit on. They were both smiling, and Stephen recognized the pale skin and dark hair. He turned slowly.

"Thor... how did your brother die?"

_Murdered._

_He was murdered._

_M u r d e r e d._

Thor looked back at them. "He was murdered."

* * *

"Dude, I saw your video last night!" Ned pulled Peter down into a seat at the cafeteria, "It's up to like 15k views, man!"

"No way," Peter grinned, taking out his phone. He opened it to his latest video he had posted on his channel, which he had filmed a week or so ago: _STORY TIME: My house is really really haunted???? **caught on tape, not clickbait!!**_   He scrolled through the comments, and shook his head. "So many people saying it's fake."

"I believe you," MJ said, dumping her bag beside his, "And I didn't even watch the thing." Ned practically shoved Peter's phone in her hands, and she watched the part the video was at.

 _"And this..."_ video Peter said quietly as he walked down the dark staircase, _"Is the living room, where a lot of the stuff happens... sometimes the TV turns on in the middle of the night-- here guys, watch this!"_ In the video, he knocked three times on the wall, and three more knocks came back. Video Peter smiled. _"See, I'm literally living in The Conjuring, this is so scary--"_ Suddenly a voice in the background of the video called from downstairs.

_"PETER! What are you doing out of bed on a school night, it's... mmm, 2AM! GOTOBED!"_

Video Peter whipped around. _"SORRY dad! Sorry!"_ He covered his mouth, then his eyes widened in horror as his voice lowered to a whisper. _"Oh my god... oh my flipping god guys, he's here, he's in front of the refrigerator... real ghost caught on tape here... okay... whew... I'm gonna approach, okay..."_ Video Peter sneaked up very slowly to the kitchen to where a tall dark figure was standing by the glow of the fridge, and shoved the phone in front of its face. _"REVEAL YOURSELF!"_

 _"Mmfpfp,"_ the figure muttered, and the phone caught a good shot up Stephen's nostril as he tried to eat a banana. He blearily eyed the camera, one eye open. _"What are you... Peter..?"_

 _"Oh sh... Mr. Strange, I am so sorry sir, I thought you were satan--"_ The phone got stuffed in Peter's pocket, and after fourteen more seconds of tired grumbling and apologies, the video ended.

MJ glanced up from the phone at her friends. "Illuminating."

"A wild ride through the systematic terror he experiences each and every day," Ned nodded far more enthusiastically, and Peter sighed, stuffing his phone away.

"Most of the stuff happens in my dreams now, anyway. It's okay though, I feel a little safer with Mr. Strange around. I can tell he makes dad happy. Plus, y'know... with him being a psychic and all..."

"Why do you always have to drop the fact that you're living with a psychic?" MJ scowled.

"Because it gets him that sweet sweet lovin'," Ned grinned as Liz came over, and Peter shushed him.

"Liz! H-hi!"

"I saw your ghost video," she smiled, "You never told me your house was haunted. That's so freaking cool." Ned and MJ both gave Peter two thumbs up as they walked away together.

* * *

Tony shut the front door. "So, I know you're thinking what I'm thinking."

"The dagger."

"Exactly. How are we gonna get it?"

"I can try and locate it," Stephen said, "It will take a long time."

"How long we talking? Months? Years?"

Stephen huffed. "Days. Still longer than I usually take."

"Like I said, Wong's faster." Stephen raised a brow, and Tony bit his lip. "Okay, sorry." Stephen found himself smiling a little though, and Tony's face just blossomed out into a huge smile that made Stephen ache with joy. "Stop that," Tony laughed.

"Stop what?" Stephen smiled.

"You're laughing at me."

"No, you were laughing at me."

"Was I?" Tony gave a lopsided grin as his eyes crinkled. "I've lost track."

"We were both..." Stephen said, "Laughing."

"At?"

"Something..." Stephen said, and the two stared at each other. Tony had very, very nice eyes.

Tony's heartbeat increased, his mind going wild on him.

_Is this happening? I can't let this happen. Pepper. Pepper's gone. She'd want me to be happy. But she's still gone. Steve didn't stay. Why would Stephen stay? Stephen probably doesn't like you that much, he's just settling, or faking. Nobody will love me like Pepper did. Can I trust Stephen? I've been betrayed once before. But he likes Peter too, doesn't he?_

Stephen had his own thoughts to deal with.

_Why would he be looking at me like that? I can't let him. He can't like me. I don't deserve to be loved, or-- love? Since when was love part of this? I don't deserve to love anyone after Christine! I can't let anyone else get hurt. This is business. Business. We're so close to getting rid of this thing. But... his eyes, he's so happy, god, I want to make this beautiful man happy--_

Just as their hands began to brush and they began to lean in, the door opened, and Peter came home.

"Hey dad, doctor dad--"

"Don't call me that."

"--Tony Awards are on tonight, we're watching right?"

"Yeah," Tony coughed, "Yep."

"Tony Awards," Stephen nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Fun."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "Did I interrupt something?"

"What is there to interrupt?" Tony asked, daring Peter to respond, and the teenager just crept upstairs away from the two. As Tony went to go set up the channel, Stephen collapsed into a dining room chair. This couldn't go on for much longer before he'd go insane. Not Thanos-level insane, but... _insane_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!

When Stephen first agreed to live with the Stark family, he assumed it would be like any other case he's worked. Get in, commune a little, do something incredible and get paid a shit ton of money.

Of course, it hadn't worked out like that. Stephen had fallen head over heels in love with the man who was technically his employer, and was currently in a state of perpetual fight or flight. For now, things were stable enough for him to control-- however, looking into all the possible futures with Tony hadn't helped.

There had been the one where Stephen was alone with Peter, which is one that he didn't have to delve into to understand. Then there was the one with only Peter, going to live on a farm with someone Tony used to know, and that also said a lot about the outcome of this whole Thanos business. One, after the other, after the other, of all 36 possibilities of a life if he stayed, Stephen examined, but each one made him more anxious than the last because of one glaring fact:

_There was no one yet where they lived, all three of them, happily together._

Of course, as long as no advances were made, Stephen didn't have to worry about avoiding any of those outcomes. It was smooth sailing until they found that dagger and got rid of Thanos... he just couldn't let feelings get muddled in before then.

"To the power of four." Stephen went to point to the math book, but opted to hide his scars, nodding instead.

"Oh! Oh, yeah!"

"See, cause the exponent of this one is--"

Tony came walking down the stairs to see Stephen sitting next to Peter at the kitchen island. "What's this?" he asked plainly.

"What does it look like, genius?" Stephen deadpanned, and Tony raised his eyebrows.

"Looks like you're trying to teach my kid AP level stuff he hasn't learned yet."

"Keen eye, Stark, that's exactly what I'm doing. Peter's IQ is well above anyone in his grade level, he needs to challenge himself more."

"Well I could've told you that," Tony scoffed, ruffling Peter's hair. "Wanna grab some McDonalds?"

"We have food at home," Stephen said.

"Crap, but doctor dad--"

"We have leftovers in the fridge, Peter!" He paused. "And _don't_..." He looked at Peter, and sighed as he felt an odd affection arise from the name he was usually so quick to admonish. His eyes softened. "And don't swear. Come on, nickel up."

Peter sighed, and dug around in his pocket to add to the swear jar. "Man, crap isn't even a real swear word..." Stephen turned to find Tony smirking.

"You're a convincing dad."

"I don't think so," Stephen huffed, getting up.

"No really," Tony said, blocking his path. "You care about Pete. That's really cool."

"Of course I care about him," Stephen said, watching as the teenager doodled spiders in his math book, "He's a compassionate young man who has a bright future ahead of him."

Tony watched Stephen watch Peter, and felt a swelling in his chest. This was right. It was beginning to feel like Stephen filled the gap. Whenever he was around, Tony felt whole again-- like he hadn't lost Pepper, or Steve, or any kind of other parental figure for his son. It wasn't as if he replaced them... it was something new and refreshing, something Tony had never experienced.

Stephen could feel Tony's eyes on the back of his head, and when he felt that he was about to speak, he promptly aborted mission, excusing himself downstairs. Of course he could sense Tony's feelings. Of _course_ he knew Tony was falling in love with him-- that man had emotions stronger than Stephen had ever read.

So why was it so hard to accept it?!

"Thanks for reminding me about the leftovers," Tony muttered.

"So will you be making them, then?" Stephen raised an eyebrow.

"No no, we're still going to McDonalds, but thanks for reminding me."

Stephen couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

“So Pete, what do you think of Stephen?” Tony asked in the car.

Peter's eyebrows raised. "He's the bomb dot com, dad."

"I assume that's a good thing, do you feel safer with him around?"

Peter nodded. "I mean... I'm still getting some pretty crazy dreams with that creepy grape guy, and those aren't too fun, but it sure makes me feel better knowing I've got a badass in the house."

Tony smirked. "Thanks."

Peter gave his dad a sideways glance. "I meant doctor dad."

"You sure about that?" Tony asked, staring to pull away from the McDonalds.

"No, no! I was joking, heh, wow you're so cool and I love you waay more than Mr. Dr. Strange!"

* * *

Peter saved his fries for Stephen. They got home about an hour later; Tony had wanted to buy Strange a hot apple pie slice or something just to have something to give him, but he felt like that would be a stupid way to tell someone you like them.

Maybe he could just go up and say it.

_No, Strange was probably a fan of theatrics. I mean, look at that bath robe he wears around. And that swirling thing he does with his fingers when he does his psychic shit? Come on. He lives for the drama._

It was Friday night, which meant movie night. Peter had come home with a 97% on his math exam, and they had celebrated with... leftovers.

"I'm so proud of you," Tony had hugged him after dinner, and Peter had been grinning from ear to ear.

"They said that only 2 people in the class passed the exam. I bet MJ was the other one."

"What about Ned?"

"Ned once asked if 2 times 5 was 50," Peter raised his eyebrows.

"Well, your teacher is one seriously hard marker," Tony frowned.

"Good, it keeps them on their toes," Stephen said, "Of course, Peter can handle it."

"Hell yeah!" Peter raised both hands. "I mean heck yeah. Heck yeah, dad."

Tony chuckled, and Stephen looked around. "Well, those leftovers were delicious." The sarcasm was dripping from his voice.

"Your fault, we could've gone for sushi," Tony shrugged.

"This is so sad, Alexa play Despacito," Peter muttered.

"I have an idea," Stephen said, and got up. Tony blinked.

"Where are you going?" he called.

"Just gonna check something, be right back," Stephen assured, and grabbed his coat. Once he was outside, he dashed down the street, running past the houses in the neighbourhood. He even passed Quill's place.

"Check out Forrest Gump out here," Quill huffed in his pyjamas, watching out the window, and Gamora rolled her eyes.

"That's that guy who was asking about my dad."

Quill frowned. "Merlin?!"

Stephen jogged until he came to a little storefront he had been to a couple times, and went in.

"Welcome to Baskin Robbins, what can I get you?" a bored looking man asked, adjusting his "Scott L." nametag.

"Where do you think he went?" Peter asked at home.

"Who knows? All I know is, he just forfeited the right to pick the movie tonight."

Peter grinned. "Can we watch Pacific Rim again?"

"Once is enough with that one. No, we're gonna dedicate tonight to a master of film as we know it."

Peter's eyes widened as he put his hands together in a blessing. "Lord Tarantino."

"The good lord Tarantino," Tony nodded, cracking his collection.

Stephen tried to hold the box steady as he jogged back home. It was starting to rain, and his hair looked particularly fetching tonight, so he wanted to preserve that. Making it through the front door, he garnered the attention of Tony and Peter, who were having a Pulp Fiction vs Django debate.

“Strange,” Tony said, “What’d you get?”

Stephen came over, and took the lid off the box, revealing a cake. “For you, Peter.”

The cake said: _CONGRATS ON THE A+_ with little red icing spiders along the sides. Peter’s eyes just about bugged out of his head, and he stared at it, open-mouthed.

“Do you like it?” Stephen asked nervously, glancing up at the teen. He knew that teenagers were very hard to please, and a cake about grades probably wasn’t that cool, god this was a bad idea— “Oof!”

Peter ran forward, squeezing his arms around Stephen so hard the psychic could barely breathe. This rendered him speechless. “Thanks, dad,” Peter mumbled into his chest, and Stephen felt tears gather in his eyes as he finally closed his arms and hugged Peter back. When they broke away, Stephen quickly made a dash for the kitchen.

“Uhhh, how big a piece does everyone want? We can eat it while we watch Pulp Fiction.”

“HA!” Peter laughed in Tony’s face, then cleared his throat, “--sir.”

“You cannot be on his side,” Tony groaned, sauntering over to the kitchen and swiping his finger through the icing.

Stephen made a point to cut Tony the piece he had swiped from, and set the three onto plates. “Why don’t I propose a tie breaker then?”

“You lost that opportunity, when you—"

“When I what Stark, went and bought your son cake?” Stephen deadpanned, and Tony smirked.

“Fine, you get a pass this time. What do you propose?”

“Inglourious Basterds.”

“…Acceptable, Peter—turn the TV on.”

Peter sat in between the two, Stephen reluctantly relinquishing his usual armchair for the left cushion of the couch when Peter had insisted. After the movie had finished, it was quite late, and darkness had fallen.

“Ooooooh, that’s a bingo!” Peter wiggled around, and Strange frowned at him.

“Ya just say ‘bingo’.”

“ _Bingo_ , how _fun_!”

Tony smiled to himself as Stephen and Peter swapped references from the movie they just watched. “Kay, it’s late. You heading to bed?” he asked his son, and Peter sprung up, shaking his head.

“Well, um…” he began to wring his hands nervously, and Tony raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I… was actually hoping to, ummm…”

“Yes?” Tony encouraged.

“HeadovertoNed’splace?”

“You wanna go to Ned’s? Like for a sleepover?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded anxiously. “I just really didn’t want to miss movie night with you guys, since it’s my favourite part of the week, and then Mr. Strange got me that epic cake, and…”

“Slow down. It’s cool, sure you can go. Just don’t get too hammered, okay?”

“Oh, no! No, we were just gonna watch some Let’s Plays together on Rabbit with MJ. Liz might join too, if her dad lets her.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Stephen offered.

“He’s gonna go watch other people play video games on a four way video chat,” Tony explained, “God, are you _from_ this century Strange?”

Stephen gave him the finger, which lead to him paying a hefty sum of $1.25 to the jar. Peter headed out to go stay at Ned’s down the street, already starting the video chat before he was out the door.

“Woah, did you see that?!  I didn’t know there were cheats to get the shapeshifter skin!”

* * *

 Peter's departure now left Tony alone with Stephen. Stephen sat on the top step going downstairs, and Tony leaned against the wall. This was his chance.

“You tired?”

Stephen shook his head. “Not really.”

“Any more crazy dreams?”

“Getting stabbed. Getting tortured. Regular death threats from Thanos. The usual. He has been getting creative lately-- I recently relived my car accident two nights ago."

"Does he ever... take the form of people you know?" Tony asked softly. Stephen looked up.

"No. Not for me."

"Huh. Cause he sure as hell does for me," the billionaire said, thinking back to last night's dream, of seeing Natasha, Steve, and Pepper, all laughing and jeering at him. He started to wake up with a panic attack, but Peter had heard from his room, and had come in to help.  

"He feeds on your weaknesses," Stephen pointed out, standing up, "I have no weaknesses, so don't take it personally."

Tony scoffed. "I can think of a few, Mr. Perfect."

"I sincerely doubt they're legitimate, but go ahead."

"You're arrogant. You're stubborn. And you're a bit of an ego maniac."

"Wow," Stephen smiled, crossing his arms, "You just perfectly described yourself."

"Maybe we're just more alike than you care to admit," Tony retorted, getting even closer.

"We're not alike," Stephen murmured, "We're very... very different."

"Really? Cause I think we're both just rich, stupid assholes who need to get their shit together."

"Oh yeah?"

"Only difference is, I'm still rich," Tony grinned.

"I could be sitting on a fortune from my days as a neurosurgeon."

"Then why'd you take this job?"

"I'm a psychic, I help people."

Tony took a step closer to Stephen, and looped a hand around his waist. Stephen tensed, and Tony stared straight into his eyes with a flicker of annoyance, lips inches apart.

"There's another weakness. You don't let anyone in."

Stephen's eyes fell down to Tony's mouth, and panic shot through him. This is exactly what he needed to avoid-- he pushed out of his grasp.

"And you let too many people in."

Tony felt the rejection and frustration swell inside of him. "What the hell's that supposed to mean? Huh? What, are you saying I'm easy?!"

"No, that's not wh--"

"Because sure, I sleep around, but I've found the right person more than once because of it."

Stephen pursed his lips. "Lucky you." Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Oh yeah. Lucky me. Lucky enough to last just long enough to see them leave me."

"I'm very sorry," Stephen replied, and he wished that came out more sincere. Tony scoffed again, shaking his head.

"What's your deal, Strange? Honestly-- you keep pushing me away, you keep pushing _this_ away." He gestured around him. "I'm happy, I can tell you're happy, and I can sure as hell tell _Peter's_ happy. So what the hell?"

"Don't ask me why, Stark, I can't answer that."

"Do I not deserve to know?"

"No, you don't," Stephen snapped, "Don't make this about you, because it's not."

"Seriously? Are you seriously feeding me that whole 'it's not you it's me' bullshit?"

"I'm being honest!" All the fights he had with Christine, they were all bubbling up, this was exactly like that, _no, no, it couldn't end the same way it did with her, but why was Stephen responsible for preventing that?! He wasn't! He wouldn't be!_

"It is about me, it is now!" Tony interrupted his swirling thoughts.

"Not everything is about you!" Stephen shouted back.

"Same goes for you!"

Strange blinked a couple times. "This was a mistake."

Tony was taken aback for a moment. "What?"

"This..." Stephen took a few steps away, feeling dizzy. "This whole... deal, this whole business thing, it's not working out. It was a bad idea, I shouldn't have..." he shook his head, "I shouldn't have agreed to it."

"What the _fuck_?!" Tony asked, and Stephen couldn't look him in the eye-- he couldn't see the anger and hurt he could feel _radiating_ off of the billionaire.

"I'll send Wong to get my things, and wire you all the money back, I don't..." he was going to say "I don't need it", but he felt that saying such a thing would only aggravate things. "I'm sorry. You have to understand Stark, I'll only make things worse for you."

"What about Thanos?" Tony's voice was small, cracking. "Strange, what about Peter? What are we gonna do?"

Stephen could feel his pain, he could feel it in his bones, and he needed to get out of there before it crippled him. Tony didn't get it. Stephen was doing this to protect him and Peter.

"I'm so, so sorry. But you were wrong to believe I could help you."

He turned to leave, and Tony felt the tears flood. "You said you would help us. You're fucking running away!"

"Mr. Stark," Stephen said, as calmly as he could muster, "I've tried to explain this to you. My being here only aggravates the demon. I messed things up before, and it will certainly happen again. If there was some alternate plan of action, I would take it... but I've looked, and in every reality..." He sighed. "I'll put it bluntly. There is no happy ending for us. I've looked. So please, for your sake and for Peter's, let me go."

And just like that, the door opened and closed, leaving Tony Stark alone.

Tony hit the wall. What was he going to tell Peter? What if he had another dream? All the what-ifs came at him like bullets, and he fell to the floor, holding his head. Thanos' power was unchecked now that they didn't have a psychic with them. He could die tonight! Peter could die tonight! How could Strange be so heartless?! Screw his alternate realities and 'no happy endings'! Peter was 16, he couldn't defend himself!

As all the questions and worries and possibilities ran through his mind, he began to feel as if his lungs were tightening up. He stood up, trying to calm his breathing, but a creak sounded behind him, just up the stairs. Tony's blood ran cold as he heard a voice.

 _"Oh, S t a r k. Looks like it's just me and you tonight."_ Tony's eyes squeezed shut as the demon laughed. _"Another one left. You thought he liked you back... pathetic. Still... you're a fighter. All those people who live in your dreams... I hope they r e m e m b e r you and your son."_

He heard a sound like a knife dragging against stone.

Stephen walked away from the house, wishing he could go back. He wanted to. He wanted nothing more in this world. He cared for both of them so much, and loved Peter like his own son-- which is exactly why he had to leave. Of course he felt bad. He had left Tony during an extremely vulnerable time, when he felt that he had found someone to make up for the loss of Pepper. Still, Tony and Peter would be better off _alive_.

But as he kept walking, Stephen started to feel angry. Why should he listen to those realities? His psychic abilities hadn't always worked, case in point his last girlfriend. Maybe he just needed to try. Conflicted, he stood still on the sidewalk, and weighed both options. He wanted to hear Tony's laugh again, wanted to make him smile until his face hurt like he deserved, like no one had ever done for him... even so, staying with him could be the most selfish thing he'd ever done.

Suddenly, his debate was interrupted by an overwhelming freezing sensation gripping him, the deafening sound of a knife dragging the only thing he could hear. The psychic's heart dropped.

_Tony._

 A shiver of fear ran through Tony as the sound crept closer. He couldn't bring himself to move, and he waited, paralyzed, just as the front door banged back open. A powerful stir almost swallowed Tony up, and gusts of wind blew from the man in the doorway. 

Tony stood back in awe as a bright purple blast shined behind him, and Thanos gave an agonized scream as Tony opened his eyes.

"Wong?" Tony slurred. Stephen shut the front door, running to Tony's aid.

"Guess again." Stephen held him up, holding him against his body. "You're okay, you're fine, you're here, you're okay." He kept repeating it, chanting it like a mantra while holding Tony close, grounding him. "Shhh. I've got you. I'm here. I know. It's okay, I'm not going anywhere." Then he leaned down tentatively, and after sharing a brief look, bent down all the way to meet Tony's lips in a kiss long overdue. They stayed like that for minutes, arms wrapped around each other as their lips met again and again, finally just letting it be. Tony's lips were softer than Stephen could have imagined. Stephen's hair was perfect for tugging, Tony soon discovered. The psychic pulled away first for air, leaving the shorter man dazed.

"It probably was a mistake to stay here in the first place," Stephen mumbled against his lips, "But I know better than anyone it would be an even bigger mistake to leave." Tony stammered something unintelligible, still reeling from the kiss.

"What about... all those endings you saw?"

"I saw 36 realities if I stayed, and none of them ended in our favour." He pressed his forehead to Tony's, ghosting his lips over the other man's. " _Let's make number 37._ " Tony wrapped his arms around Stephen's middle, and they both slid down the wall, wrapped up like that until they both began to lose track of time.

"...Hey. Why did you think I was Wong?" Stephen mumbled softly into Tony's hair. Tony cuddled closer to Stephen's chest, like a koala.

"...That was some powerful stuff with Thanos back there, and Wong's more powerful than you..."

Stephen threaded his fingers with Tony's, and let that one slide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who am I kidding, Strange respects Tony too much to just flat out leave him like that. Y'all know I couldn't do that to you.
> 
> Also, fifty points to whatever Hogwarts house you're in if you got my Scott Laing reference :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Just a possible trigger for this chapter: kind of in depth description of OCD. 
> 
> Enjoy otherwise!

Peter paced in front of his two father figures.

"Alright, long story short, I found you two wrapped up in each other's arms this morning sitting in the hallway and figured, 'oh this is really cute, great, you've finally realized your obvious feelings for each other, now what's the next step?' So-- don'tgetmad-- I've made you a reservation for two at Milestones, because Milestones just seems like a really classy place, right? So tonight, get all dressed up and stuff, yes I've already paid for the date so there's no backing out, and I'll just go spend the weekend at Liz's cabin! No funny business, I swear!"

Stephen and Tony were both sitting on the couch, watching Peter as the teenager ranted in front of them.

"Let me get this straight," Stephen deadpanned.

"I'm not," Tony smirked.

"Very mature. Peter, you set up a date? For us?"

"At Milestones," Peter smiled proudly. Silence filled the room for five seconds.

"Stephen, how much would it pay to sell a kid?" Tony turned to the psychic.

"I don't know, let's find out," Stephen folded his arms, and Peter backed up against the mantle.

"N-now wait dads..." He closed one eye, then his face relaxed. "Oh, you're gonna let me call you that, awesome-- look, it's gonna be _fun_! We've all been stressing out over the fact that our house is severely and dangerously haunted for like, four months now, and if you guys don't get away from it for a night, you're probably gonna go insane. So I'm just looking out for your health!”

"Kid's got a point," Tony mentioned.

"And my health too, since if you guys went insane, I'd probably go insane too."

"Not how it works," Strange said.

"Well," Tony put a hand on Stephen's shoulder, "I'm not gonna argue with a good thing. I could use a nice dinner."

"So you guys aren't mad?" Peter asked timidly.

"No. I just really wish you would have let me pay for it," Stephen grumbled to Peter, "I hate surprises."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry!"

As per the plan, the two men headed out for dinner that night in the city, driving for about an hour until they made it to lower Manhattan. Both were dressed in impeccable suits—Tony had had Stephen fitted for one, since apparently, it was less work than retrieving the psychic’s own from the flat Stephen paid for but never went home to.

Arriving at Milestones, Tony on Stephen’s arm, the two looked like the power couple of the century. They took their seats, and began to peruse the menu.

“How did Peter get the money for this?” Tony asked, inspecting a $55 steak on the menu.

“It’s best if we don’t question it,” Stephen replied, and Tony hesitated.

“That was such a _me_ answer.”

Stephen looked up. “Well, I was going to say that he got the money from you, but you don’t strike me as the kind of parent who would teach their kids that hard work is only for poor people.”

“Got me pegged.” Tony forewent the steaks, and flipped to all the options that had a little green ‘V’ beside them. He stole a glance up and across the table. “So. Are we gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about the fact that I left you, in a fit of misplaced emotion, and then returned after I realized I was making the biggest mistake of my life?” Stephen took a sip of his wine. “Yes, I think we should, communication is healthy.”

Tony huffed in disbelief. “Y’know, if any of my previous partners had their shit as together as you do, it would have saved me a lot of dumb, immature hassle.”

“I appreciate that Tony, but I am far from having my shit together,” Stephen mused. “I just pretend well.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Tony gave a silly smirk, lifting his glass, “To faking it.”

“Oh… you won’t be faking it tonight,” Stephen murmured as he took another sip, and Tony couldn’t help the shivers he got from hearing the other man say that. “So onto our chat.”

“Yeah.”

“Tony, I’m going to tell you exactly why I left, and I need you to hear me out.”

“I’m listening,” Tony nodded. He already knew why Stephen did though. He got scared. Everyone gets scared; they don’t realize what they’ve signed up for, and stupid him falls in deep before they decide they don’t actually want what they thought they wanted. His anxiety, the panic attacks, the _slight extra work_ that a partner needed to put in was just too much.

“I know you’re thinking. I wasn’t scared away by your anxiety.”

“Wha…” Tony muttered.

“Shh. Your anxiety is a part of you. It can be ignored, it can be overcome, but it is a part of you. Anyone who thinks it can be cured with a few kisses is fooling themselves.” Tony swallowed, and Stephen went on. “I’m gonna start off by saying, this is not an excuse... more like an explanation. I have OCD, Tony.”

“You obsessively wash your hands?”

“Common generalization. My type is a little more specific.” He looked down at his napkin. “After my accident, my mind stuck on the images of it. I got disturbing flashes of what happened, and my mind started compulsively showing me pictures of grotesque things, like hands splintering apart or bones going through fingers. I would just be out walking, and I would suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to cry because I had just pictured myself doing surgery on my own hands and completely botching it.”

Tony stayed absolutely silent, watching the other man try not to cry.

“And… for the longest time, I thought I was going to have to live like that forever. The thing is Tony, a lot of people do. But I discovered I could hone my “gift”… my ability, whatever you want to call it, to help people. I could see things and feel things others couldn’t, and when I lost the ability to operate, it gave me a chance to give _that_ a chance.”

“Do you still get the flashes? And stuff?” Tony asked, suddenly filled with worry. Did all this happen every day for him, just like his own anxiety? He hid it well.

Stephen shook his head. “I have ways of coping, just like you do. It faded over time.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tony murmured.

“You have no reason to be sorry,” Stephen was quick to retort, “I’m the one making the apology here, and I’m not finished. I left because something happened to me a few years ago. Something with my girlfriend. I thought… I could help her with something I should be _able_ to help with… something similar to what you’re going through now, but I couldn’t.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Not me,” Stephen snapped, then relaxed a little. “It... this was more than just a mistake, Tony… this was—" he faltered, and Tony raised an eyebrow.

“What happened to communication is healthy?”

Stephen stared, and looked down ruefully. “The main reason why I left, however, was what I said before. I wasn’t lying when I told you I didn’t see anything for us in the future, out of all those possibilities I checked.”

“Well, you just said you’ve made mistakes before,” Tony winked, and Stephen let himself smile.

They settled into a comfortable silence, before Stephen opened his mouth again, hesitantly this time. “I’m… sorry about the comment regarding your partners.”

Tony shrugged. “I guess I was a little easy. It was my way of getting validation.”

Stephen anticipated Tony’s next sentence through a feeling, smiling. “Except for Pepper.”

“I… yeah,” Tony grinned, “Right, she… uh… she was the one.”

“I understand.”

Tony sighed. “God, look at the two of us. Commitment issues and abandonment issues… great pair.” Stephen chuckled.

“Don’t two halves make a whole?”  

"Witty."

Their dinner came, and it was orgasmically good. Tony spent the whole time moaning, and Stephen spent the whole time blushing as a result.

“Don’t you eat like this all the time?” Stephen asked, “One rich guy to another, this isn’t too different than that.”

“Who says I was moaning about the food,” Tony smirked, and Stephen’s blush got deeper.

They got home that night at around 11, and Peter was gone again.

“He really is a great kid,” Stephen muttered, picking Tony up. Tony wrapped his legs around Stephen’s back, and the two walked like this all the way up the stairs, leaning in occasionally to kiss. Once up to Tony’s room, the tech genius began to pull Stephen’s bow tie apart, and Stephen set him down only to cup his face and bring him in for a real kiss.

“Shit, you’re good at that,” Tony breathed, and Stephen kissed him again, quieting the shorter man. He then trailed his hand down and squeezed Tony's ass, using his other hand to rub the front of Tony's pants.

"I want you," Stephen groaned, and Tony turned around, laying back on the bed. Stephen bit his lip, undoing his pants, and checked the top drawer-- lube was always in the top drawer. He grabbed a condom as well, and a slid it over himself, sighing as he ran a hand up his length. He was so hard for Tony, and after the months of watching him, imagining this, he knew he wasn't going to last long.

Stephen’s hands went down to thread through Tony’s, and Tony’s thumbs ran over his scars. Stephen shuddered a little, and almost pulled his hands away, but Tony held on. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Stephen," Tony moaned, spreading his legs. Stephen slid in between them, holding them back by Tony's ankles as he teased two fingers at the billionaire's entrance. Neither of them could bear to wait, however, so Stephen slipped two fingers in, pumping slowly until he was sure Tony was stretched enough. By now, Tony was begging for him, and Stephen didn't have the willpower to deny him any longer.

"Ufhhh," Tony groaned as Stephen buried himself in, and he started to fuck Tony hard, holding his legs up. Tony's moans filled the whole house, and Stephen murmured his name, tossing his head back. Tony brought him down for a kiss, and Stephen took over jerking him. The gaze they shared alone was enough to make Tony come, but it was Stephen’s voice that did it—a soft mumble of 'Tony', like he had never heard before. Stephen followed soon after hearing the noise that the other man made.

Tony sighed, sated, and watched Stephen come down from his climax, taking off the condom and smiling. He encouraged Stephen to climb up higher on the bed with him. Stephen tucked the sheets around Tony, and spooned him from behind... he didn't even care that he only had half the blankets.

* * *

Stephen woke up before Tony, admiring how the smaller man looked in the morning. He was completely at peace. His face was mashed into Stephen’s chest, he was drooling slightly, and his goatee was scratchy, but the psychic wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Murff… the other… the other one…” Tony mumbled in his sleep, “The… mmm, the venti!”

 _Jesus Christ,_ Stephen thought, and closed his eyes, walking into Tony’s dream.

Tony was at a Starbucks counter, and he was the only one there other than the barista.

_“A venti black coffee,” he confirmed, “And a venti tea for my boyfriend. Man, that sounds weird, 'venti tea'."_

_Stephen smiled, watching Tony carry it. Then Tony walked right up to him, and pressed his lips to Stephen's own. "Got you something," he whispered, and Stephen took a long sip of the large tea._

_"Thank you," he whispered back, and kissed him back. Suddenly, the sound around them began to slow. The ticking of clock slowed, the bubble of the brewing stopped, and soon, all that was left was the slowing drip... drip... drip of a coffee pot until there was no sound at all. Stephen looked around apprehensively, then turned to find that Tony was grinning._

_"You can't save us," he smiled._

_"What?" Stephen chuckled, possibly mishearing._

_"You. Can't. Save. Us. Me and Peter? Me and my kid? We're goners," Tony stepped forward, his eyes beginning to widen. Stephen stuttered, stepping back, as Tony continued advancing. "Ever since you set foot in our house, we've been goners, just like Pepper. Just like my wife, my perfect wife." Tears began to run out of Tony's eyes... but they weren't tears._

_"No," Stephen murmured, stumbling back._

_"Don't you remember Christine?!" Tony shouted, laughing. By now, his cheeks were stained with red, and it was dripping onto the floor._

_"Tony," Stephen fell to the ground._

_"You did this," Tony growled, his white shirt beginning to bleed with stab marks. "You did this." Peter stepped out from behind his dad, eyes hollow and bleeding._

_"You did this," he droned, whimpering. His hands came up, and they were covered in blood. "You did this."_

_"Please, no--" Tony grabbed him by the neck, too hard._

**_"YOU DID THIS!"_ **

"Hey!! Strange! You good?"

Stephen woke up suddenly, and jerked as he found Tony's hands on his neck. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" he shouted, and Tony took his hands off, holding them up.

"Woah, woah, woah! What's up? I just asked if you wanted Hollandaise sauce on your morning omelette that I totally wasn't going to make." He yawned, tossing his Dine Happy app aside and turning over. "Hey... tell me what happened."

"I don't..." Stephen shook his head, "Uh..."

"It's okay, take your time Strange, clear your head," Tony nodded, fully attentive now and serious. He knew what this was like.

"He..." Stephen shook his head. " _You_ were there. I don't even know what happened, but you just..." He gestured to his eyes, trying to calm himself. "It was Thanos again."

"Son of a bitch is a regular Freddy Krueger," Tony muttered, "Couldn't he just stick to the wall scratching stuff? Poltergeist I can handle. Elm Street, not so much." Tony pressed a kiss to Stephen's cheek, getting up and pulling on some red boxers.  

"Good thing I can control dreams," Stephen breathed, still trying to wrap his head around that last one.

"Eh, doesn't sound like the last one was much of a success, but okay. You know--"

"Don't say it," Stephen snapped. Tony started to grin.

"See, that's not fair, cause you know what I'm gonna say."

"Don't say it."

"Wong could have dealt with it."

" _What_ is your thing with Wong, Tony?! He hates you!"

"Most people I like hate me," Tony paused, frowning. "That sounded a whole lot more self-deprecating than I planned, I promise."

Stephen sighed, and held his hand out. "Come back to bed?"

Tony bit his bottom lip, doing a 180 to look at the psychic. "I have been waiting my whole life to hear a tall dark and handsome man say that in morning voice while they lay on my bed."

"Stop talking, and do it."

Tony swung his hips as he approached, then straddled Stephen.

"Oh, hello," Tony smiled, "You're still naked."

"And you're not," Stephen nodded, "We should change that."

"You _read my mind."_

After a slow make-out session and a lazy exchange of hand jobs, the two relaxed back.

Out of the blue, Tony asked it. "Who's Christine?"

Stephen spent a long time staring at the wall. "She was my girlfriend back when I was a neurosurgeon. She was a surgeon too, we met at the hospital. She stayed with me through the accident, and helped me get back on my feet. It was, uh... Christine, who told me I should open up the psychic shop."

"Smart woman," Tony hummed.

"Yeah," Stephen drawled, "The time came when she needed my help. She really needed it. She had something a lot like what you've got."

"What... like Thanos?" Tony asked.

"Yes. A demon." Stephen was quiet again for a second. "I tried to help her, Tony, but..." He shook his head. "I didn't know what I was doing at that point. I couldn't even pretend."

Tony held his breath, waiting for the inevitable. "She died."

"Yes, Tony," Stephen said softly, "She died."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tony mumbled, clutching his shirt, "I lost my wife... you lost your girlfriend. I know it's different, hers I guess was preventable so that makes it harder, but why didn't you tell me?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, it's not something I like to talk about."

"Right, sorry. So is that why you keep saying you can't help me and Pete? Because you think I'll end up like your girlfriend?" Tony shook his head. "We're in this together, Strange. You and me, we know what to find, and what to do. We've got a plan of action."

"I had a plan of action before."

"Your mistake was, you probably thought you knew everything."

"Like you?"

"Exactly, like me."

"Well that mistake cost Christine her life. And I can't ever say sorry to her."

"I'm sorry," Tony told him, taking his hand. "You're going to do this for her. To finally be able to tell her and yourself that you can save lives."

Stephen ran a hand through his hair, the silver by his temples showing. "The world doesn't deserve you, Tony Stark."

Tony's lips tugged up a little.

They got up to shower, and made breakfast. The whole rest of the day though, Thanos stuck in Stephen's mind. This couldn't go on forever. It would get worse, and worse, and if the spirit overpowered him in the dream last night, who's to say what he'll do to Tony or Peter?!

Peter came home Monday morning, having spent the weekend at Liz's family's cabin.

"Did you have a good time?" Stephen asked him. Peter sighed dramatically.

"Ohmygod, she's the best, she's sososo sweet and sooo amazing, gaaah." He wrapped his arms around himself, swaying from side to side.

"Did you lose your virginity?" Tony raised his eyebrows at his 16-year-old son, and Peter's eyes widened in shock.

"Woah, woah dad-- going a little far there."

"Yeah dad, you're going a little far," Stephen smirked in amusement, going back to re-reading Thor's book. Tony crossed his arms.

"No, I want to know, so I can give him the talk."

Stephen frowned. "You want to give him the talk... _after_ he's had sex."

"There wasn't any sex happening!" Peter shouted. "And I know the talk..." he added softly.

"What's new at school?" Stephen changed the subject with a pointed look at Tony.

"Welp doctor dad, the superintendent's coming to check on everything. My principal is really freaking scared, just like Skinner and Chalmers from the Simpsons, it's hilarious."

"Superintendent visit. Fun. Anything actually cool going on at that catholic prison of a school?" Tony asked. Stephen got up, and slapped the shorter man's ass as he walked by. "That was gay."

Peter looked up from his phone. "Well, there's this really awesome thing going on at school today," the teenager said, "It's like a true crime thing, like an exhibit-- MJ's out of her mind about it."

"Huh," Tony said, sipping his black coffee, "What kind of stuff have they got?"

"Put some cream in that, you're going to get an ulcer," Stephen walked by and fussed. Tony stuck his tongue out, but complied, giving in and pouring in some Silk soy creamer.

"They've got old artefacts, like weapons and case files. They're under super guard, cause obviously, they're really important to the police and stuff, but it's right in line with what we're learning in forensic science right now."

"You have forensic science at your school?" Tony scowled, "I had to wait until college for that."

"Wait, Peter," Stephen said slowly, "What kind of weapons?" Tony started to catch on to what the psychic was saying, and his eyes widened.

"Any knives?" Tony blurted, and Peter frowned.

"You're kinda creepin' me out, dad. But yeah. Weapons local killers have used, that are in FBI custody now. It's like a museum type thing now, that travels around to schools."

Stephen looked to Tony, both men horrified. The dagger that could be used to kill Thanos-- the one that could cause catastrophic collateral damage if in _proximity_ to Thanos-- was in Peter's high school.


	10. Chapter 10

Tony considered keeping Peter home for the day, but Stephen ruled that out as too extreme.

"Too extreme?! Let me tell you about extreme, my kid's in a school with hundreds of other kids who are about to be blown up!" It was 8:40 AM.

"Tony, we don't know that."

"The hell we don't! Strange, Pete's connected to Thanos, even more than we are. He's younger, he's easier to mess with. For all we know, he messes with Peter's head all day even when he's not home, so the connection, the haunt, the infestation, whatever, is still there--"

"So, you're saying that if Thanos does, in fact, maintain communication with Peter outside of this house, his proximity to the dagger would increase when Peter got to school, thereby--"

"Triggering the self-defensive reaction, yeah," Tony nodded, sitting across the table from Stephen. The two thought hard for a second. "Oh god."

"What is it?" Stephen mumbled, still deep in thought.

"I have an idea."

Stephen looked up over his hands, narrowed his eyes, and then shook his head. "There has to be a better way."

"Dammit, again with the mindreading! Would you mind not using that on me?"

"It's impossible not to, your mind is so obnoxiously assertive," Stephen smirked, then began to scowl. "Can you stop thinking "ASS" that loud please?"

"Not until you stop reading my mind."

Stephen sighed. "Tony, we could just sneak in."

"Exactly my plan. Mine just involves a disguise."

"A very, very bad disguise."

"One that'll work!"

Stephen held his head in his hands. "Tony, mind control isn't one of the many benefits of my gifts, I'm a psychic, not Obi Wan Kenobi."

"Fuck, please? I can't let my kid just walk right into this! He's completely unassuming Stephen, he doesn't have a clue. It's up to us to save him here. Hell, I'll do it!"

Stephen stared at Tony. "The spirit is attached to me the least, it has to be me. Anyway, they know you there." He ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe we're doing this."

Peter waved as MJ, Ned and Liz waited for him in a huddle by the entrance of the neighbourhood high school. Liz had started hanging out with their friend group after the video chat at that gaming sleepover they had a few weeks back, when both Ned and MJ realized she was actually as cool as Peter said.

"Hey," he smiled, hoisting his bag up higher as he pressed a quick kiss to Liz's lips. She reached her hand down and stuck it in his back uniform-pants pocket as the four walked in, and Ned pulled out a book from his pack.

"Okay, before anyone asks, no I didn't study for the science test today, and yes, I totally did stay up all night reading this new manga!"

"Before you ask, no I don't want to hear about it," MJ muttered. She then side eyed the book, and bit her lip. "Scratch that, yes I do."

"Hey, the science test was cancelled," Liz reminded, popping some gum in, "For that crime display thing in forensics today."

"Oh thank god," Ned clutched his book to his chest, "That sounds pretty dope."

"Uh, of course it does," MJ held her hands up, "Today will be the day I come out of my shell. Today will be the day I actually make an effort to pay attention."

"Don't you pay attention anyway?" Liz frowned.

"Hell nah."

"Then... how do you get all those amazing grades?"

"10% luck," Ned said.

"30% skill," Peter continued.

"15% concentrated power of will," MJ kept it going, and Ned started beatboxing as Peter went on.

"5% pleasure!"

"50% pain!"

"And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!" all three yelled, and Liz huffed.

"You could have just said magic."

"You know how long I've waited to see something like this in person?!" MJ sighed happily. "And stuff from around here too! I've seen every single documentary on Netflix about this stuff, Making A Murderer, Mindhunter--"

"The Office, Parks and Rec," Ned listed off with a huge grin, and they all looked at him strangely.

"You want a piece of gum, babe?" Liz asked Peter. He shook his head. "It's okay, I'll just share yours."

"You sure?"

"Oh yeah."

Liz popped her gum out, and Peter took it, popping it in his mouth. MJ glared at them.

"You did not just do that."

"Don't be _that_ couple," Ned gagged.

They walked down the main hall of the old building, past the notice put up on the board that there would be a routine check by the superintendent around mid-day, and on to Peter's locker. He stopped to grab some books.

"So... anymore haunting going on in your place?" Liz asked, prodding Peter's shoulder. "You know, you still haven't invited me over to see."

"That's exactly why," Peter insisted, "There's no telling what this thing'll do, he's crazy, and I don't want anything to happen to you."

"What about your psychic there?" MJ mentioned, "Isn't he supposed to be protecting your guys?"

"Oh yeah. And he sure is," Peter grinned, and lowered his voice. "He and my dad have a thing now, so he's basically my dad too."

"The psychic?"

"Yeah!"

"Huh," MJ smirked, "Cute."

"I know right?" Peter hissed. "Plus, he's a badass!"

They headed off to class as the bell went. Outside, Tony pulled up in the school parking lot, wearing sunglasses. Stephen took his sunglasses off, adjusting his tie.

"This is ridiculous."

Tony looked over, inspecting him, and flicked some dust off his lapel. "Nah, you look handsome. And very professional." Tony turned back to gaze over the wheel from their shady spot. "Okay. Now all we have to do is wait here, until we see a guy who looks like he could be the superintendent. Then?"

Stephen sighed. "Then, we take him and keep him in the backseat of our car while I go in and do the inspection in his place."

"While keeping an eye out for the dagger."

"Uh huh. He should be here around... 1PM, and park in space 21." He shook his head. "Tony, this is kidnapping."

"It's borrowing."

"It's borrowing a person."

"Relax, you've just got stage fright."

"Tony, I do not have _stage fright_."

The two waited in the car like this for about three hours, dozing off. Lunch hour came and went, and then...

"That's him," Tony whispered.

"Wha?" Stephen woke up, rubbing his eyes.

"Here, put your sunglasses back on."

"Why? I look like a god damn Reservoir Dog, Stark--"

"That's kinda the point, now let's go!" He gave Stephen a kiss that lasted longer than necessary, then the two got out of the car, and approached a tall, thin man getting out of his car. He had silver hair, strange, grey-looking skin, and hollow eyes. "Hi," Tony went up to him and grinned, "I'm Tony Stark."

The man sneered. "Is that supposed to mean something to me, sir?" He had a very refined British accent.

"I'm the creator of Stark Industries, biggest tech company in America, so yeah," Tony folded his arms.

"Who is this, your boyfriend?" the man smiled in condescension, and Tony cocked his head.

"Matter of fact, yeah." 

"What's your name?" Stephen stepped in, prepared to commit it to memory. The superintendent looked him up and down.

"Maw, Ebony Maw. Who did you _gentlemen_ say you were again?"

"Ebs, could I take a look at your phone for a second?" Tony stepped forward.

"Just who do you think you are?!"

"I just told you, I'm not saying it again." He snatched Maw's phone, inspecting it. "Just as I thought. Stephen, could you take Mr. Maw here back to the car to exchange his model? We've got to get it to Shuri."

"Look. This has been fun, but I unfortunately do not have much time to frolic in a parking lot with two imbeciles," the man said, "It is my job to inspect this school and all the lowlife inhabitants." Tony looked ready to punch him, but Stephen held him back.

"About that," Stephen said, "Uh, that's why we're here. The principal actually sent me to brief you about it."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Tony muttered to himself.

"Oh? Five minutes before I go in?" Mr. Maw chuckled in disbelief.

"Yes," Stephen said smoothly, "This is information you'll be happy to know." With that, he whisked the man away, and helped (pushed) him into the backseat of Tony's car.

Stephen closed the door, and Tony locked it as they both started to walk into the school. Mr. Maw tried the door. "Hello?" He tried the doors again. " _Gentlemen_?!"  

Inside the school, Tony waited by the doors, and Stephen went all the way in. "You got the ID?" Stephen murmured. Tony produced it, and gave it to his boyfriend. As Stephen was preparing his role, Tony took out his phone, and dialled a number.

"Shuri! Hi, you busy?"

_"Very."_

"Well this takes precedence."

_"Whatever, they're your prototypes that are being ignored."_

"Yeah, just how many school security cameras have you dismantled?"

_"...Four. Don't ask, and I won't either."_

"Mr. Maw," Stephen strode up to the front desk, taking off his glasses suavely. The lady there looked flustered for a moment.

"You... you're Mr. Maw?"

"Yes," Stephen replied coolly, and she scanned the badge.

"You... dyed your hair?"

"I did. And isn't that sir to you?"

"Yes sir!"

He walked by, and the principal came out, trailing after him. He was a short, thin man, with wispy blonde and silver hair. "Principal Ross," he introduced himself, "Which classroom shall we take a peek in first, Mr. Maw?!"

"Whichever one you see fit," Stephen said impatiently, "I didn't come here to organize your schedule for you." The principal nodded quickly, and guided him to the first room on the left.

"Coffee for you, sir?"

"Tea would be great."

In class, Peter looked at the time. In about ten minutes, they would be on their way to the crime exhibit, which would be much better than this-- listening to Mr. Schmidt drone on about the second world war.

Suddenly, the class was interrupted.

"Please take a moment to put your pens down and direct your attention to the front," the principal announced.

"You interrupted my spiel about ze U-Boats!" Mr. Schmidt spat angrily, and Principal Ross gave him a look.

_"The superintendent is here."_

"Ah," Schmidt put down his whiteboard marker. "Welcome, sir."

"Thanks," Stephen stepped in, and looked around. "Nice classroom. Next."

"Oh. My. God," Peter said. Ross, Schmidt, and Stephen all looked over to him, and Stephen's eyes widened. He shook his head subtly.

"Something to say?" Schmidt asked. Peter scrambled for words.

"Uhhh, uhm, no no, nothing, sirs, I was just... reminded of that movie Ferris Beuller, you know, where--"

"That's enough kid, zip it," Ross hissed, and Stephen frowned.

"Hey, I don't like the way you're talking to my--" he swallowed suddenly. " _About_ my, my favourite movie. Besides, that's a student right there, is that how you treat all the students here, Ross?"

"Yup," Ned said from his desk, and Ross gulped.

"Why don't we check out the next room?"

Stephen looked back at Peter, who mouthed: _what's going on?_

 _I'll explain later,_ Stephen mouthed back, shrugging apologetically, and followed Ross.

"Who was that?" MJ asked. Peter stared out the door.

"That... was my psychic dad."

"Holy--" Ned went to get up, but Peter and MJ pulled him back.

Outside the history classroom, the two men walked briskly down the hall, and finally came to a display.

"And this is the crime exhibit," Stephen said, watching Ross closely.

"Oh yeah," Ross said, "Guard'll be back from lunch any minute now to watch all the artifacts so the kids don't decide to keep any. No guns or anything, just a couple of old things the cops kept from some suburban murders around here."

"Educational," Stephen nodded. "I like it."

"You do?" Everett lit up.

"I do, let's move on." They kept on until they reached the stairs going up, and Stephen pretended to remember something. "Oh-- shit, I forgot something in my car, I'll be right back. You go on up, I know my way around."

"Of course, sir."

Stephen waited, looking both ways, and just as he was about to break the glass to grab the dagger, Peter came dashing out of class to him.

"Doctor dad, what'reyoudoinghere?!!" he asked, wildly looking around.

"Peter, you can't be here," Stephen whispered.

"Why not? Is this about my lunch? I know I forgot it at home today, but I've got enough lunch money for some fries--"

"Peter, I am trying to steal this dagger."

"Um," the teenager blinked. "Geez, okay." It suddenly dawned on him. "This must have something to do with the demon."

"It does. Now I have to do this before your principal gets suspicious and comes back down to find me."

"Hi!" Ned called from the open door, and MJ and Liz popped out, waving.

"What's the scariest ghost you've ever seen?" MJ stage-whispered his way.

"The stay-puffed marshmallow man," Stephen replied sarcastically, "Don't you kids have class?"

"Let me do it!" Peter begged excitedly.

_"No."_

"No no I can do it, I swear!"

"Peter, go back to class. You guys too." He glared at the others, who reluctantly headed back in.

"Pleeease, doctor dad?" Peter persisted.

"I'm going to tell your dad if you don't go back to class. I'll see you at home."

Peter sighed, groaning. "Fine. Can I at least smash the glass? I've always wanted to do that, sir. Like that part in Mission Impossible, where Tom Cruise--"

"This isn't Mission Impossible or Tom Cruise, this is Dr. Stephen Strange, neurosurgeon and master of the psychic arts just kidnapped someone and is about to steal a big dagger, so--" Something suddenly stirred in Stephen's memory. The proximity.

 "Peter..." he said softly, "Don't make any sudden movements."

"What?" Peter paused. "Why? Do I have a bug on me?"

"No, just... be very, very still. I want you to back away slowly. You can't be anywhere near this when I take it out of its case."

"W-why?" Peter asked quietly. His eyes were wide; everything was tense.

"It's very dangerous," Stephen told him honestly. "Just go back in. Okay? I can do this, but I need you to be far away from it."

Peter nodded, and took a few steps back toward the classroom, finally heading back in. Inside, his friends were all waiting eagerly, and Peter grinned, taking his seat again as they huddled around him.

"Okay so my telekenetic dad just kidnapped the school superintendent--"

"With _roofies_?!"

"With his _mind_ , how else do you think man?!"

Once the teenager was relatively out of harm's way, the psychic took a deep breath, furrowing his brow and smashing the glass. Thankfully, the shatter wasn't all that loud, and the burst of energy he was expecting to feel didn't happen, but he did get the exact same rush he got when he did his very first reading at the Stark house.

_Anger, fury, kill, destroy, revenge, failure, death, kill, kill, kill--_

"No." Stephen opened his eyes, his jaw clenched. "Not this time." After calming down, he was able to stuff the weapon in his pocket. Stephen winced as he felt the tip begin to slice through the suit jacket. It definitely hadn't dulled much over the years.

"Got it?" Tony asked eagerly. Stephen showed him.

"Mr. Stark?" the receptionist asked, "Peter's father?"

"Hi Sharon," Tony smiled, "The superintendent's my... he's my--"

"We're friends."

"Boyfriends."

"How nice!" The blonde smiled.

"This school... is clean," Tony bowed, and Stephen dragged him out as Ross came running back down the stairs.

"Mr. Maw? Sir?"

After dropping the poor, furious, _real_ superintendent back by his car and making a note to give Shuri a raise, Tony and Stephen drove as fast as they could back to the house. They got out of the car, quickly wrapping the dagger in Stephen's robe in an effort to conceal it from Thanos until they knew how to use it. The house was already starting to creak, groan, and howl, scratching in the walls surfacing and the lamps flickering on and off. Thanos could sense the one thing that could be used against him, and he wasn't happy.

The two opened Thor's book to the dog eared chapter. Stephen read through again, and looked up at Tony. "The ritual has to be performed at midnight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go! eeee!!


	11. Chapter 11

The ritual was set up in the basement. 

Stephen had laid out ceremonial red tapestries from his shop, and had lit special candles made for evocation. Tony was nervous about including Peter, but the whole family had to be there in order for the ritual to work.

"Babe," Tony mentioned, leaning against the door frame. "What were, uh... what were the odds of surviving this?"

"For all of us surviving?" Stephen replied, lighting another candle. Tony nodded, and Strange gave a weak smile.

"I don't think I should tell you the odds." Before Tony left to go get Peter though, Strange grabbed his arm. He stroked hair out of Tony's face, and kissed him.

Tony walked up, and knocked on Peter's door.

"Hey."

Peter looked up, and took his headphones off, smiling. "Dad! You wouldn't believe what happened at school today, Doctor Dad just showed up, and was like woah, I'm gonna just steal this crazy knife from the display, and--"

"Really? Wild. Peter, we need you to come downstairs."

The teenager hesitated. "Am I in trouble? I knew I shouldn't have told my friends that was him..."

"No," Tony sighed, and sat down on the edge of the bed. "No Pete, you're not in trouble." He laughed a little. "You know how much I love you?"

"I love you too, but you're freaking me out."

"Sorry," Tony apologized, and tears gathered in his eyes. "I'm, uh... supposed to be the strong one, right? The dad. I'm supposed to protect you. You're not supposed to see me cry as much as you do."

Peter leaned on his dad's shoulder. "You've taught me how to be the best you can be. You deal with things the best way you can, and you're not afraid to ask for help. I don't think I could think of a stronger man. Besides... I'm still alive. You're my hero, dad."

Tony exhaled in awe, and shook his head.

"You're an extraordinary kid, Peter. I say it all the time, and I'm saying it again."

"Hey Dad?"

"Yeah, buddy."

"...Are you, um. Are you and Doctor Dad gonna sacrifice me? B-because if you need to to like, save all of humanity, that's totally--"

"You really think I'd do that to you?"

"Nah," Peter blushed, looking down at his lap, "I guess I'm just starting to listen to the voice in my dreams."

Tony looked at his son for a second, then pulled him in close for a hug.

The two went downstairs, where Stephen was slipping into his red robe.

"Alright, Zorro. Let's do this," Tony nodded, and Stephen gave the other man a look before all of the took hands. The dagger was placed on the table in the middle of all of them, candles surrounding, and Peter turned out the lights. Strange held his deceased wife's diamond bracelet in his palm, and said a silent prayer to Christine, to protect them from her place in the spirit world. Tony said a silent prayer to Pepper, wherever she was, to help them survive this. _All of them._

The house was quiet. Tony looked at Peter, who had his eyes squeezed shut. He then glanced over at Strange, who had his eyes calmly closed, invoking Thanos to make an appearance.

The sound of their breathing melted into nothing as the candle's lights flickered. A soft whispering wind blew through the room, and shadows began to form along the walls.

"Don't fear them," Stephen said, eyes not opening, "They're simply shades of the people whose lives were taken by Thanos. They're not going to hurt you... they want this as much as we do."

Tony scanned the room, and saw the variations of shadows running up the walls in the wavering glow of the flames. A tall shadow with long hair stood to his right, and he remembered Thor's brother, Loki.

The wind suddenly grew stronger, and the walls began to scratch and groan.

"Is it working?" Peter asked, opening one eye, and caught a glimpse of the shadows, eyes widening.

"Shh. Remember what Strange said," Tony told his son, "They can't hurt you." Stephen kept his arms steady as he squeezed the hands of his new family, and Tony frowned as he watched him. Tears were beginning to stream down the psychic's cheeks. "What's up, new gameplan?" he asked, and Stephen vehemently shook his head.

"Pay no attention to me Tony, I'm acting as a conduit for all these lost souls. I can feel what they feel." Just then, he let out a gasp, and his grip got too tight. "W-whatever... I do..." he growled out, "Do not.... break... the circle."

"His face," Peter's voice wavered, "Dad, what do we do?!"

"Do what the doctor said," Tony nodded, ignoring the pain of watching Stephen in emotional distress, "Don't break the circle."

Stephen let out a loud shout, and a shock went through Tony and Peter's hands. They toughed it out, and Stephen hung his head. "Sorry. Had to shrug off all the god damn ghosts prying at my body. There's only one person who can do that to me, and he's not dead yet."

Tony smirked, squeezing Stephen's hand back, and they waited some more. The dagger on the table began to move. It moved left, right, then began to spin.

"Thanos," Stephen spoke, "We have come to bargain. I invoke you. Show yourself, and finish what you started." They waited, but nothing came of it. "THANOS! We have come to bargain. I invoke you. Show yourself and finish what you started!" Still nothing, so Strange tried once more. "THANOS! WE HAVE COME TO BARGAIN! I INVOLK YOU-- SHOW YOURSELF AND FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED, YOU BASTARD!"

The candles all blew out at the same time. The temperature in the room, which wasn't all too warm after the initial visit from the dead, dropped below zero. Tony could see his breath, and Peter looked to his dads, lower lip trembling. Tony gave him a reassuring nod, and they waited.

"You're not going to trick me," Thanos' growling voice came from behind each of them, "You are all weak. My mission was righteous." Tony began to feel as if he was being choked, as did Peter. Strange seemed to be the only one not affected physically.

"T-the book said... read the words," Tony gasped, and Stephen looked down to the dagger.

"Ut vere mortuum..." (What is dead)

"I don't need you..." Thanos howled.

"Necesse est venire ad animam..." (Must come to life)

"To invoke me to finish what I started..." the demon went on, voice making the walls tremble. Furniture began spinning, and the lights began flickering on and off.

 _"Vere interfici!"_ (To truly be destroyed)

"--I can start with you."

Everything was quiet again. They waited with baited breath.

"D-dad... I don't feel so good," Peter mumbled, and Tony looked over to see him stumbling back against the basement wall, sickly pale.

"Peter? Pete, you alright?" he rushed over, and suddenly, the teenager began to twitch. "Pete! You're okay buddy, you're--" Peter began to convulse violently in his dad's arms. "Stephen, he's convulsing. Stephen, my kid's convulsing, _Stephen_!"

The psychic looked down at the boy he had come to love, panic shooting through him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was the one who read the words. The ritual was supposed to complete itself through him. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Tony," Stephen said seriously, "Stand aside." Tony frowned.

"What's going on?!"

"Thanos has gone into Peter, I have to stop him."

"He--! You're not... Strange... if he goes into you, it'll be too much for your mind to deal with."

"I'm a big boy, I can handle it."

"Stop being an asshole for one fucking second-- you'll--"

"I know the consequences."

"Yeah, so do I, we discussed them at great length, I just don't think I'm ready to give you up like that!" Tony shouted indignantly, "We need to get him out of Peter fast, tell him to take me!"

"No way, Tony get out of the way."

"You knew, didn't you?" Tony asked, lump in his throat. Stephen paused, and Tony nodded. "You saw this happening. You knew it would."

"Tony. This isn't about me and you anymore, or even Peter."

"Yes it is, how can you not see it?! I can't lose you too! We said we weren't saying goodbye! I finally found my happy ending, Strange, and it's you. Fuck."

Stephen stared at him, wanting to kiss him one more time, then all but pushed him out of the way.

" _Thanos_! Leave the boy and his father. Take me as your host!"

Peter let a single tear slip, and then his face changed, a smile dancing across his lips. _"The boy is weak. You are not! You would resist me."_ He let out a laugh that sounded nothing like Peter. _"No more tricks."_

"It's not a trick," Stephen said, moving Tony behind him as he tried to interfere. "I swear that I will accept you so that you can rejoin the living world."

"Stephen," Tony whispered, but Stephen glanced back, drilling it into Tony's head with a single look: _if I don't do this, your son will die._

Realizing this was their one reality, Tony squeezed his eyes shut, and held onto the taller man's middle.

"I... I don't want you to go."

Stephen softened a little, and brought his hands to rest over Tony's. The other man's voice sounded so small.

"Tony..." he whispered, "I love you too." Tears formed in Tony's eyes. "...But it's the only way."

With that, he let his boyfriend go, and rushed Peter, taking him by the shoulders.

"ACCEPT MY OFFER OR I WILL NOT HESITATE TO KILL YOU IN THIS FORM!"

 _"You would never kill him,"_ Peter chuckled, eyes red rimmed and peeling now from containing such a force, _"He's just a boy. A boy you think of as your son."_

Tony looked up from the corner, and Stephen sighed. "Yes. Which means I would do anything in my power to end his suffering."

Peter stopped smiling as Stephen took out the ancient dagger.

 _"Stormbreaker,"_ he whispered, eyes wide and disturbed, " _That's... not possible..."_

"Well," Stephen said, "I think you'll find with me, the impossible tends to become possible."

He raised the dagger, Tony reached forward in desperation, and at the last minute, Thanos finally vacated Peter's body, roaring into Strange. Stephen fell to the ground, completely still, and Tony ran to Peter, who was also limp. Tony felt his pulse, and when he couldn't feel any beat, he buried his face into the boy. It was too much for him... what if his heart gave out? Peter lay still, eyes closed for a second, and Tony pulled his head into his lap, stroking his hair.

"It's okay, Pete. It's okay." When he was about to give up, his son inhaled sharply, and drooped into his arms.

"Peter!" They hugged, and Peter stared at his dad in wonder.

"Dad... I saw her. I saw mom."

Tony breathed a sigh of relief, and they hugged again, Tony's hand finding the back of Peter's head. He dabbed at the blood that had begun to drip from his son's eyes, and made sure everything else was right with him. Then Peter looked over his shoulder, and saw--

"Doc?" he whispered, "Doctor dad... Mr. Strange, p-please wake up..." Tony joined Peter over at Stephen's body. He was twitching a little, but not as much as Peter had been. It seemed as if he was fighting a battle in his mind, and they could do nothing to stop it.

"P... P...."

"He's tryin to say something," Peter said, coughing a little and holding his ribs.

"You rest, I'll see what he's blabbering about..." Tony swallowed his pain, and lowered his head to Stephen's mouth. "Stephen?"

"T... Ton... Tony..."

"Yeah, I'm here, baby, I'm here," Tony hushed, grabbing Stephen's hand and holding it to his lips.

"T... T... mm..." Stephen tried to say, eyes staring up at the ceiling.

"What is it?"

"Do it."

Tony's heart skipped a beat. "I... Stephen, I can't. I can't."

"You.... have to... he's... i-i-in here... I can't hold him.... much _llllonger_..."

"What's he talking about, dad?" Peter asked, "Dad, what's he mean?"

"Pete..." Tony whispered, voice cracking, and Peter turned back to Strange, horrified.

"He can't mean... dad, no! No!" He broke down, and began to cry as Strange continued to twitch. Tony held his hand close.

"T...Tony." With great effort, Stephen rolled his head to look at Tony, and stroked Tony's face with his thumb. "I didn't mean... to leave you... so soon."

Tony's lower lip trembled as he realized there was no putting this off. He had to do this, Stephen needed him to do this. He had to be strong for him, and for Peter. He leaves down, and ghosted his lips over Stephen's.

"I know. I'm sorry we didn't have a chance," he murmured, kissing him, and brought the dagger down into Stephen's chest. The psychic's eyes shot open, transforming into whirling purple irises, and an ear splitting yell shattered all the windows as Thanos rose. Everything in the room hit the walls, including Tony and Peter, and the light bulb smashed as the demon whirled and imploded, flaking into little bits of dust and at last disappearing for good.

In the eye of the storm, Strange lay there, skin grey as dust and blue eyes hollow.

Tony and Peter spent a good ten minutes just sitting there, backs to each other and sitting on the basement floor.

"I can't... um, I can't do this again," Tony finally said, voice wavering with an anxiety attack threatening to hit. He looked completely broken, shaking and empty. Peter looked down at the bloodied dagger, then back up to his dad. He needed to be strong for his dad, just like his dad was for him.

"Dad... it's okay."

Tony's anxiety quelled a little as he heard his son's reassurance. "Yeah," Tony looked over, and took his hand, "It's okay. I'm okay. I just can't, um... I can't try again. With anyone. But we'll be okay. We'll be okay, you and me."

Just then, Peter noticed something.

"Wait..." His eyes lit up. "The words... the words! Dad, the words on the dagger!"

"Hm? What about them?" Tony whispered, voice hoarse.

"Say them. Please dad, just try!"

Tony looked at the determination in Peter's eyes, and finally took the dagger in his hands again, reading the words out. He might as well try anything at this point.

"Da dissipatum est vas quod... spiritus qui in vita damnatorum." (Give breath back to the vessel who took the life of the damned.)

Strange breathed.

"Oh my god," Tony cried, and Peter flopped himself down over Stephen as his skin brightened again, rejuvenating as if reversing the entire aging process of a mummy. The wound around his stomach where the dagger went in sealed up into a neat scar, and his clothes stitched themselves back up around it. The psychic smiled at the two.

"I guess we got a second chance."

Tony kissed Stephen, and Peter hugged the two of them close, the three drained, sore, and ultimately exhausted from banishing a demon.

"We did it," Peter said, "No more crazy mushroom dreams!"

"Hey, how do you know what shroom dreams are like?"

"Youtube simulation video, I swear sir," Peter put his hands up, and the two helped a very broken Stephen up into the chair. Without another word, Tony and Peter headed into the kitchen to make some dairy-free dessert.

"So when I was possessed, did I go full Linda Blair?" Peter asked excitedly.

"It wasn't that cool," Tony shook his head.

"You bled from your eyes," Stephen mentioned from the couch.

"Awesome!" Peter grinned, "Why weren't you filming, dad?!"

Tony raised his eyebrows, brandishing a wooden spoon. "Peter Benjamin Parker, I did not just watch you almost die for you to ask me why I wasn't _filming_ it--"

"Okay okay! Sorry! I'm sorry!" Peter ducked behind the fridge door, grasping it tightly.

* * *

As of the week after, all was right in the Parker-Stark-Strange household. Strange had moved his things into the house, decorating his and Tony's bed with red sheets. Tony didn't mind the red, as long as they got gold pillows to accent with.

A family photo of Pepper, Peter, and Tony was propped in the center of the mantle, and Christine's bracelet sat behind it, to keep the memory of the loved ones who had left them and helped them.

Stephen kept his psychic shop up and running to make some extra money on the side with Tony's tech company, which grew bigger every month, thanks to the combined genius of the founder and Shuri. Stephen only sold dream catchers and gave psychic advice now-- his demon hunting house call days were over.

Tony and Stephen went to visit Gamora and Quill's house one Saturday afternoon, and after warily greeting them at the door and learning her father was gone for good, she invited them in for hot tea as her husband sang bad classic rock from the kitchen. It was chicken nugget night again, apparently.

About a half year later, Peter was graduating high school with Liz, Ned, and MJ. Tony and Strange showed up in their best suits and matching bowties, and both had to say, the other looked good enough to undress.

Backstage at the ceremony, Peter nervously looked down at himself.

"Do I look alright?"

"You look the exact same as everybody else here," MJ deadpanned, staring down at her own blue robe.

"Except for Liz," Ned nodded helpfully.

"You're right," Peter sighed dreamily as his girlfriend winked at him across the room, "She wears it the best."

On stage, they could hear Principal Ross saying a few words, quoting something from Green Eggs and Ham no doubt, or whatever that other one is that they all read at graduations.

"Hey Peter... you know what we should do this summer?" Ned whispered, "Okay listen up, cause this is a prime idea. Become ghost hunters! I was thinking the three of us, four if Liz wants in, could stake out in your house Peter, and create a whole channel around the creepy stuff that happens in your place. I mean, it's obviously real, and we'd be celebrities! We'd even get picked up by a TV station, then we could whip around dramatically--" Ned demonstrated dramatically, "And go, 'did you hear that' while MJ pops out in the background with a friggin' ray gun!"

Peter covered his mouth to contain his laughter. "Um... sorry to burst your bubble man, but... the ghost is gone."

"What?" Ned looked genuinely disappointed, as did MJ honestly.

"Damn," she muttered, "I wanted to see the thing one day. Also, ray guns would've been cool."

"Yeah, well... it was a pretty mean demon, actually. Kinda glad it's gone, and my family can live normally now."

"Your epic psychic dad still around?" MJ smirked.

"Oh yeah. He's in the audience! You can wave to him."

The curtains opened on them, and there was cheering from the audience. On stage, the three of them waved to Stephen and Tony who enthusiastically waved back.

After the ceremony and the celebration, Peter found his dads, and brought his friends over.

"Just wanna say," MJ shook Stephen's hand, "You sound awesome." She turned to Tony. "You're pretty cool too, man."

Ned nodded excitedly. "Diddo. Way to wreck that demon, dude."

"I don't understand kids today," Stephen muttered.

"They're my target market, that's why I leave marketing to Happy," Tony grimaced.

"You're both really great for being there for Peter," Liz approached and said to them, kissed Peter on the cheek, and ran back over to greet her own proud parents. Peter gave his dads a big hug and a family photo was snapped of them, perfect for the mantle. Across the gym, Principal Ross went to grab another cup of punch, leaving the school Superintendent alone. Mr. Maw turned, and saw Peter hugging his two kidnappers. His eyes narrowed.

"What do we do, babe?" Tony squeaked.

"Just smile and wave, honey... that's it," Stephen gritted, grinning at the man, and waved his hand, completely erasing Maw's memory of the event. Tony watched the man's dizzy expression, and frowned.

"How'd you do that, Mr. Superhero?"

Strange kissed his man. "I learned that one from Wong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around! Hoped all you ironstrange shippers enjoyed the spooks and the awwws. Til next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me @headoverhiddles on tumblr!


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